You Are My Sunshine
by tonystarksnipples
Summary: "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know dear how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away." Barely a week after he and Steve's wedding, Tony is diagnosed with lung cancer. Both Steve and Tony take it upon themselves to play the optimist, despite their true worry. Stony.
1. You Are My Sunshine

"I do."

"Fuck yeah you do!" Tony shouted and jumped on Steve in front of everyone. Steve had to catch him, but it wasn't a new occurrence, so he managed to keep them upright. He was a little surprised that Tony had done it at their _wedding_, but he was too deliriously happy to care.

Tony had cried when he saw Steve at the alter. Steve choked up, too. Today Steve got to make it official: he and Tony were going to spend the rest of their lives together. Steve never really understood what stroke of luck brought Tony to him. Sure, there was all of that superhero business, but that doesn't make people fall in love with each other. SHIELD was not a dating service.

"I know pronounce you married. You may, uh, keep kissing…"

Steve smiled into Tony's mouth and Tony smiled back. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could ruin this for them.

* * *

"Do you think he's gonna do it? Do you think he's gonna ask him to dance?" Tony asked.

"I hope so. It's high time they went public with it," Steve smiled. "Who's gonna make the first move?"

"Barton. Coulson's too reserved."

They were sitting back, watching the reception unfold around them. Half of New York had shown up. It seemed like it, anyway. The ceremony had been small, just a few friends, but Tony was always up for hosting a party. Everyone was under strict instruction not to give Tony any booze, a request he had made himself. He was happier sober, and he had been sober for a while, but it was still hard when booze was so readily available.

"Wanna dance?" Steve asked.

"I thought you'd never ask." Tony smiled and took the hand Steve extended down to him. They made their way to the center of the dance floor. Tony wrapped his arms under Steve's and held onto the back of his shoulders while Steve draped his arms around Tony's back. Tony fit perfectly under Steve's chin, and he nuzzled his way in while Steve's chin rested on top of his head. The song was not slow by any means necessary, but they stayed locked together like that, swaying back and forth.

"Look," Steve whispered. Tony stood up straight and looked in the direction Steve was indicating. Sure enough, Clint was extending a hand to Coulson.

"I guess love is in the air tonight." Tony smiled. He had never planned on getting married, but he had never planned on meeting Steve, either. Now that both had happened, he wasn't sure how he had been planning to go through the rest of his life without them.

Toasts were made, pictures were taken, songs were played. Tony missed Steve's mouth when they were shoving the cake in each other's faces. Steve pretended to be mad. Everyone laughed. There wasn't a lull in the excitement until everyone stopped to watch the sun rise. After that, people started to trickle out, exhausted from the party of the decade.

Steve and Tony were among the first to leave. No one would miss them much. When they made it to outside their hotel suite, Steve picked up Tony bridal style. "Why am I the bitch?" Tony asked.

"Do you want to carry me?" Steve asked.

"Proceed," Tony grumbled. Steve chuckled and Tony couldn't suppress his own smile. Steve threw him on the bed and he bounced a bit before Steve pinned him down with a kiss. "I love you," Tony said from under him.

"Eh, you're alright." Tony hit Steve's arm. "Okay, so you're more than alright."

"Fuck you."

"Okay."

"Oh, you."

* * *

"Please tell me you didn't buy this island for our honeymoon," Steve reprimanded as they got off the plane.

"I didn't buy the island for our honeymoon."

"You're lying."

"Yes."

"How many islands do you own, now?"

"_We_ own seven."

"And the other six wouldn't do?"

"I'm starting up a collection. Everyone needs a hobby."

"Then collect _stamps_, not tropical islands."

"Are you _trying_ to be a buzz kill?"

"No, but—"

"Then _stop_. Help me carry the bags into the house." Tony grabbed his oversized suitcase and picked it up over his shoulder. When they got into the house, he started coughing.

"Are you okay, baby?" Steve asked, dropping his own suitcase and running to Tony. Tony nodded his head and mumbled something about sand before going into the kitchen and grabbing himself a glass of water. He drank it slowly and soon the redness in his face had gone away. Steve stood by the door and watch his husband sip the water cautiously. "Tony?"

"I'm _fine_. Jesus Christ. Now, do you want to go for a swim and play with fishies or go straight to sexy time?"

Steve walked up to Tony and laced his fingers through his belt loops, pulling him close. He looked down at the shorter man. "That's a tough position you put me in, both sound so wonderful."

"I vote fishies." Tony jumped excitedly and ran past Steve to the beach, shedding his clothing as he went.

"Tony, swim suits," Steve called after him.

"Steve, skinny dipping," Tony shouted back, shedding his boxers just as he hit the water. He ran in as far as he could, but a wave came and knocked him over. Steve was momentarily worried, but when Tony stuck his head above the water looking dazed, Steve couldn't help but laugh. He stripped down and went splashing into the water after Tony. Steve lunged at him, tackling his husband into the ocean.

They spent the rest of the evening in the water. They chased colorful fish, floated, and splashed each other until they were wrinkled. When the sun had set and the water grew cold, Steve picked up Tony and carried him to the house. "Why are you carrying me like I'm your bitch, again?" Tony wined. He was water logged and he felt his eyes drooping closed.

"You're my bitch almost every night."

"_Steven_," Tony gasped in mock horror. Steve put Tony down. He found the towels—they were conveniently placed in a hamper on the porch—and wrapped one around himself. He threw one to Tony, who ran it through his hair before he, too, wrapped it around his waist.

"What do you want for dinner?"

"Uh… food?"

"Don't be a wise ass."

"I'm not! I don't know what's here. I had them stock the kitchen before our arrival, but I don't know with what."

"Let's go look, then." Steve turned and walked into the kitchen. The house was beautiful, made up almost entirely of windows and billowing curtains. Large fans hung on the ceiling of every room. Steve had been in houses like this before—all of Tony's, rather _their, _islands had them—but he was always taken aback by how beautiful a house could be.

Tony could tell that Steve was checking out the house. "Wait until you see the bedroom."

"Looking forward to it. Food first."

"Food first."

Steve opened the cupboard. "It seems as if there is enough raw pasta here to last us the rest of our lives." He moved to the fridge. "And enough ingredients to make all of your favorite pasta dishes until we leave." He closed the door and turned to Tony. "And nothing else."

"Oops." Tony shrugged, sitting in one of the chairs at the counter. "I also had the leftover cake from the wedding shipped down. It's in the freezer. _Except_ for the obligatory piece that we are to eat on our one-year anniversary. That's back home."

"So basically we're going to spend the next two weeks eating pasta and wedding cake?"

"I don't know how, but you managed to make that sound like a bad thing."

"It just sounds fattening." Steve crinkled his nose.

"Oh please, you can't get fat with how much you work out and I'm to stubborn to get fat. If you really want to, we can go to the mainland tomorrow and get stuff for other food."

"No, it's fine. If you want pasta three meals a day, then pasta you shall get." Steve kissed Tony on the lips before turning back to the kitchen.

"There's eggs and stuff for pancakes for the morning. And you don't have to put the bacon in the pasta. There's alternatives here, Steve."

"Yes, there are. Now go make yourself scarce. I want to surprise you."

"With pasta?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

Tony didn't know what to do with himself. He and Steve agreed it would be better if he didn't bring any tech on the trip aside from a single suit that was neatly packed up and ready to be called if necessary. There were no distractions from their time together, but but that meant that there was also nothing to pass the time when they were apart.

He decided to unpack the bags. As he scurried about the room, opening and closing drawers, he found himself feeling utterly _exhausted_. He stopped and sat on the bed to catch his breath. He grabbed a bottle of water that was in the mini fridge in the corner of the room and sipped it until it was gone. He rested on his back and watched the fan spin above him. The day of swimming had taken a toll on him, he decided. It was nothing to worry about.

He hadn't realized he had drifted off to sleep until he was woken up by Steve calling him to dinner. He opened his eyes, a little out of it. He stumbled into the kitchen rubbing his eyes.

"Did you fall asleep?"

"Yes."

"You're such a little old man," Steve joked. Tony grunted as he sat in the chair. "My little old man." Steve kissed Tony's forehead and put the plate in front of him. "Eat up, I have plans for you tonight."

"Mm, I love it when you talk dirty to me. What's next? Are you going to spank me if I don't eat my vegetables?" Tony twirled a chunk of pasta that was too big for any human to fit in his mouth. However, he managed to stuff the whole thing in. He chewed it with strands hanging from his lips. "M ah setsy now, teeb?" Tony asked.

"You are a piece of work."

"I'm _your_ piece of work," Tony said after he swallowed. "Foreeeverrrrr." He took another bite, this one normal. "This is really good."

"Thank you."

"What is it? You've never made it before."

"I honestly don't know. I just threw a bunch of stuff together and hoped for the best. I figured our first meal as a married couple, excluding hotel breakfast and airplane lunch, should be something different."

"Well your hope was rightfully placed, my good fellow." Tony finished the rest of his meal in a few bites. "Can we make the sex now, please?" he asked.

"You're the one who voted for fishies," Steve reminded.

"Are you saying you don't want to make the sex?" Tony asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"Oh no, I want to make the sex, but I also want to eat first."

"Sex now, food later."

"If you insist." Steve dropped his fork and picked up Tony in one swift motion. Tony didn't complain about being Steve's bitch this time. Instead, he wrapped his legs around Steve's waist, while sloppily smashing their lips together. Tony had put on boxers, but Steve was still in nothing but the towel. Tony moved his heels and loosened it until the towel fell from Steve's hips to the floor. Steve stepped over it as they stumbled into the bedroom.

Steve threw Tony on the bed and didn't pause before crawling on top of him and pinning him down. Tony ran his tongue over the roof of Steve's mouth. Steve shuttered. "You know I hate when you do that."

"I happen to know that you love it when I do that," Tony responded. He began to nibble at Steve's earlobe while Steve trailed kisses along his jaw. Tony arched his back and moaned. The moan turned into a cough, and he twisted his head to the side so as to not cough on Steve's face.

"Are you okay, baby?" Steve asked, the heat gone from the moment. Tony nodded, but he coughed again.

"I'm fine," he managed finally. "It's probably just a cold. You can't get sick, right?"

"Well, no…"

"Then let's do this." Tony placed his hand behind Steve's neck and pulled him back into the kiss. Steve kissed back, but Tony could sense his hesitance. "You're not going to break me, Steve," Tony informed. "I'm a big boy."

"Okay." Steve pulled at the hem of Tony's boxers and Tony lifted his hips to allow Steve to pull them off. Steve then kissed a trail down Tony's chest. Tony knew what was coming, but he wasn't prepared for it.

"Fucking Christ!" Tony bucked up into Steve's mouth. "Why. Why. Why. Why." He kept repeating the word over and over as Steve moved his head slowly up and down. Tony was squirming. "Steve, please. Please, Steve." He was digging his nails into Steve's scalp.

Steve let go of Tony with a wet _pop_. "You're impatient tonight." Tony just nodded his head. Steve smirked and reached to the night stand that held a new bottle of lube and a roll of condoms. Steve squirted the gel onto three fingers before sliding one into Tony. As he did so, he leaned down and pressed his lips to Tony. Their lips didn't separate as he added the second finger and, eventually, the third. Tony had begun thrusting onto Steve's fingers.

"Steve, please. I want your dick. Steve!" Tony was begging again.

"I'd be lying if I said that I didn't love seeing you like this."

"Please, Steve." Steve took his fingers out of Tony and rolled the condom onto himself. He squeezed the lube onto his hand before running it up and down his dick. "Steeeeeeve!" Tony whined. Steve smirked, but complied, sliding into Tony. As he always did, Steve stayed still for a few moments, allowing Tony's body to get used to the intrusion.

Steve began to thrust into Tony, slowly at first, then getting faster and faster as their desire increased. Tony's legs wrapped around Steve and he pressed his heels into the small of Steve's back. He knew that Steve loved it. Good, because he loved the way Steve was fucking him into the mattress. Tony ran his fingers through Steve's hair, pushing it back from his sweat drenched face. They caught each other's eyes for a moment and Tony's entire body felt alive. God he loved Steve. Steve bent his head down and began to bite at Tony's neck. Tony's breathed hitched at the sensation.

_No_, Tony thought before he began coughing again. Steve stopped moving and Tony held his breath and tried not to cough. The look on Steve's face was a cross between heartbreaking concern for his husband and the stress of surprising his arousal. Tony shook his head, motioning for Steve to keep going. "I'm fine," he gasped out. He bucked his hips up and Steve's control broke. He began to thrust into Tony again. Tony managed to stay composed for a few moments before he started coughing again.

"Tony?" Steve asked, stopping his movements. Tony tried to control himself, but he couldn't. He continued to cough until his whole body was shaking.

"Up," he managed to squeak out. Steve pulled out of Tony, giving Tony just enough time to roll over and vomit on the floor. He wiped his mouth and continued to cough. Eventually he was able to calm down and collapsed onto the bed.

"Baby?" Steve whispered, moving closer to Tony and wrapping his arms around him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm grand." He rolled onto his back. "I ruined sexy time. I'm so, so sorry."

"No, shh," Steve soothed, moving a strand of hair from Tony's sweat slicked forehead. "Don't worry about sexy time. Are you okay?" Steve asked.

Tony nodded. "I think so."

"You don't sound sure?" Steve asked.

"I'm sure. Really, Steve, I'm fine. I'm just really tired. I want to sleep now, if that's okay."

"Sleep well, my sunshine."

Tony smiled when Steve kissed his forehead. "Sunshine. I like that."

Even with the fan going, the weather was still tropical. Tony started shivering, regardless. Steve grabbed him his light pajama pants and a shirt, dressing him gently before tucking him under the covers.

"There you go."

"I love you. I love you so much, Steve."

"I love you, too. Please go to sleep."

"Aren't you going to stay?"

"I have to clean up dinner and then I'll be right back."

"Okay."

"Don't wait for me." Steve was met by silence and he realized Tony had fallen asleep. Tony never fell asleep that quickly. Steve's heart jumped nervously. He was painfully aware that he was still hard. He went into the bathroom and took a cold shower. It felt wrong to jerk off with the way things had ended.

When he got out of the shower, he poked around the house for a mop bucket and some rags. When he found them, he went into the room and cleaned up the vomit. Every few minutes, Tony would cough loudly. Steve wasn't sure how Tony was sleeping through it, but he never shifted or opened his eyes, so Steve was pretty sure he was still asleep.

He never made it into the kitchen. He sat in the chair in the corner of the room and watched his husband sleep. Every time Tony coughed, Steve's chest tightened. Despite what Tony said, Steve knew there was something wrong and he knew that Tony knew it, too.


	2. My Only Sunshine

"When did you first notice the coughing?" the doctor asked.

"About a month or so ago," Tony admitted. Steve looked shocked. This had been going on a _month_ and Tony hadn't said anything? "It didn't get bad until about a week ago."

The doctor typed something into his computer and nodded. "Okay, now, what happened to make it get bad?"

Steve blushed but Tony answered straight faced. "Our honeymoon. Sex. I couldn't breathe and then I coughed until I threw up."

"Okay, and have you been coughing up any blood?"

Now Tony looked away, ashamed "Yes," he whispered. He knew there were going to be questions like this. He had tried to persuade Steve to stay at home, but Steve insisted on coming.

"You've been coughing up blood and you didn't say anything to me?" Steve shouted.

"Please don't yell at me," Tony whispered, his eyes closed. There was a lump in his throat. He was really, really nervous.

"Does regular breathing hurt?"

"Sometimes."

"How about at night? Is it better? Worse?"

"I haven't been sleeping much. It's been keeping me up."

Steve turned to Tony. "I would notice if you were coughing all night, Tony."

"No you wouldn't. I wait until you fall asleep before I leave and sneak back just before you wake up."

Steve's heart plummeted in his chest. "Tony… why did you try and keep this from me?"

"This isn't the time, Steve. Please doctor, next question."

"Have you noticed any other symptoms?"

"I'm exhausted all the time. I take a lot of naps.

The doctor hit a few more keys. "Okay, we're going to take upstairs for some testing. Mr. Rogers—"

"Mr. Stark," Steve corrected. They had been trying to figure out the last-name thing for months, but in that moment, it felt right. He was Tony's and he wanted it to be seen on every legal document and said in every context possible. He'd have it made official tomorrow. "It's Mr. Stark, now." Steve saw Tony close his eyes and bite his lip.

"Well then, Mr. Stark, feel free to wait here or go and come back later. It'll be about an hour."

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded his head. Tony walked over to him and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. "It's okay baby. It's going to be okay." Tony smiled despite the sinking feeling in his chest—the one that had nothing to do with his wonky lungs—and kissed Steve's forehead.

"I'll see you soon, my sunshine."

The doctor led Tony out of the room. Steve gave them enough time to have turned the corner before he left the office. He walked up and down the halls, breathing heavily. The world was spinning around him. The doctor's questions had been horrifying and Tony had answered them all wrong. He was supposed to say that the coughing began on the island. He wasn't supposed to be coughing up blood and he was supposed to be sleeping through the night.

Steve went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. "I'm okay, you're okay," he told his reflection in the mirror. "It's not a big deal. It's a really bad chest cold."

"If it was a really bad chest cold, you wouldn't be here." Steve turned around to see a twenty something with an oxygen tank.

"You don't know that," Steve answered. He gave his thanks to whatever higher being made it so his voice didn't crack over the words.

"Don't I? I've seen a lot of _really bad chest colds_ in the waiting room and soon enough they're sitting next to me in chemotherapy. I'm Connor, by the way."

"Well listen here Connor By The Way, my husband is _not _going to be sitting next to you in chemotherapy because he is not sick. Not like that. He can't be. He just… he can't be." Steve left the restroom in a hurry. He was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. The irony. He managed to stumble outside where he took in a deep breath of fresh air. He closed his eyes and leaned against the pillar beside him. When he looked at his watch, he realized his our was almost up and that he should be getting back to the room and wait for Tony. How had an hour passed? All he had done was try not to pass out.

Steve got back first, but not by much. He had managed to casually grab a seat and a magazine before Tony came back in, smiling and laughing with the doctor. Steve felt a wave of relief wash over him. They wouldn't be smiling and laughing if there was something seriously wrong with Tony, would they? Of course not.

"Hey baby," Steve greeted.

"Hey!" Tony smiled. "Ready to go home?"

"You can go home?"

"Yup. The hospital will call me when the results are in. C'mon, let's go home. I've got plans for you." Steve's chest tightened a little at the fact that Tony was smiling even though they hadn't gotten any test results back. What reason did he have to smile if he wasn't healthy?

Tony pulled Steve through the winding corridors of the hospital. When they got in the car, Tony turned to Steve. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

"Yes."

"I love you more than the moon and the sun and the stars."

"I know." Steve swallowed his nerves and switched the car into drive, grabbing Tony's hand over the center console. They drove home in silence.

* * *

As soon as Steve kicked off his shoes, Tony was kissing him. They stumbled around for a bit before Tony's hands started to grab at Steve's belt. "Tony, I don't—"

"Since when are you against sex?"

"I don't want you to get sick again."

"Oh, boo… I'm fine… We'll go slow… I know how much… you like that. Besides… we were abstinent… for almost the entirety… of our honeymoon… which is longer… than we've _ever_ gone… without sex… and the honeymoon… is when… we're supposed… to fuck… like rabbits!" Tony explained between kisses.

"How are you so good at arguing with me while kissing me?"

"I'm good at a lot of things, Steven." And that's when the back of Tony's legs bumped against the bed. "You were leading me here all along."

"Yeah."

"Good boy. Now, let's do this."

Just as Tony's promised, they went slow. Steve pulled Tony's shirt over his head before leaning in to bite at his neck. Tony began to claw at Steve's back until Steve pulled away from Tony. Tony unbuttoned each of Steve's shirt buttons slowly. Once they were all unfastened, Tony ran his hands up and down his husband's chest before sliding the shirt down his arms.

"You're so beautiful," Tony murmured, looking up from Steve's chest to his eyes. "So, so beautiful."

Steve's mouth met Tony's. The kiss was tender. If it wasn't for the fact that Steve was slowly laying Tony down on the bed, it would have been classified as innocent. Once Tony was lying on his back, Steve stood up and began to unbutton and unzip Tony's pants. They didn't look away from each other as Steve slowly slid them down Tony's legs. Tony eventually helped my kicking them off at the end before sitting up.

He finally was able to finish his work on Steve's belt before throwing it aside. He then pushed Steve's pants down over his hips while lightly trailing kisses over Steve's abs. He repeatedly mumbled "I love you" with every kiss, and Steve would have been content to stay like that forever, if it wasn't for the fact that Tony had begun to grab at his crotch.

"Jesus Christ!" Steve shouted in surprise.

Tony stopped and pulled away. "What?"

"It's just… I wasn't expecting that."

"Steve, if I'm not allowed to touch your no-no parts, then it's going to be very difficult for us to have sex."

"You are literally the weirdest person I have ever met," Steve said as he scooted Tony back so he was propped against the pillows. When his hands left Tony's body, they took his underwear with them.

"Am I allowed to touch your no-no parts, Steeb?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Yes, Tony."

Tony smiled like a doofus and made little grabby motions with his hands. "Gimmy gimmy!" Steve grabbed their lube and a condom from the drawer on the bedside table and threw them at Tony. "Yay!"

"Why are you acting like you're five years old?" Steve asked. Tony's behavior was actually somewhat concerning.

"Because I'm about to get laid?" Tony responded.

"Not a good enough excuse."

"Honey, please. Give me your dick," Tony demanded

Steve positioned himself in front of Tony to give him access. Tony smiled and unwrapped the condom, rolling it onto Steve's dick with his teeth. He didn't have to look at Steve to know the effect it was having on him, but it was always nice to see someone's eyes roll back into their head.

"Okay, enough." Steve announced, pulling back. Tony started to pout, but Steve just grabbed the lube and slicked up his fingers.

"Oh goodie."

At Steve stretched Tony, he kissed every inch of his face. Soft, chaste kisses. "Did you know that you're perfectly imperfect, but you're perfect for me?"

"Did you know that you make me be all I can be?"

"Did you know I'll love you for always?"

"Did you know I'll love you through good days and bad days." Steve got onto his knees and prepared himself before sliding into Tony. "Hmm," Tony hummed. "You're the only person I've ever recited poetry with in bed."

"Well then I'm honored."

They continued to whisper sweet nothings to each other as they slowly moved together.

"_Sir, I am aware that I am not supposed to interrupt, but the hospital is on the line with the results from your tests._"

"Answer it," Steve said.

"You sure?" Tony asked. He wanted to know what was wrong with him, but he was also enjoying the sex. He liked sex. Sex was good.

"Yeah. We can finish this later."

Walking away from sex was always horrible, but it didn't compare to the dread Tony felt as he walked out of the bedroom to take the call in the other room. "I'll be right back."

Steve rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He was kind of regretting telling Tony to leave. He tried to think of everything and anything that wasn't the fact that he was still hard. He started to count the seconds until Tony's return, but after ten minutes, he started to get nervous. He sat up and pulled on his boxers, now on a quest to find his husband.

It wasn't difficult. He was in his workshop, fully dressed, head under the hood of one of his cars. "Tony?"

"Oh yeah, sorry. I got distracted. C'mere. I'm not really in the mood to give you a blow job, but that's why God gave us hands."

"Tony?" Steve repeated. "What did the doctor say."

"None of that now, c'mere and let me take care of you."

"What about taking care of yourself?" Steve asked.

"I'm fine."

"Tony…"

"Will you stop saying my fucking name and let me help you out!" Tony shouted.

"Please tell me what's going on."

"Well sorry for wanting to make you happy! I mean, lung cancer is kind of a cock block, you know?" He threw the wrench that was in his hand onto the table next him and sank into his chair, holding his head in his hands.

Steve stood frozen. He had heard the words _lung_ and _cancer_ but his brain wasn't able to apply them to _Tony_. As soon as regained mobility in his legs, he ran to Tony and scooped him into his arms, carrying him up to their bed. He tucked Tony under the covers before crawling in next to him.

Steve pulled Tony towards him and buried his face in his husbands hair. He held onto Tony as tightly as he dared. He wished with all his heart that he could stop Tony from shaking. He wished _he_ could stop shaking. Time trekked on impossibly slow. Neither Tony nor Steve could cry. They were too stunned to cry.

"Steve?" Tony whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I'm scared."

And that's when Steve's throat tightened and the first tears fell from his eyes. He squeezed Tony even harder, whispering into his hair, "I am too."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**i am very aware that test results would not come that quickly, but for time and pacing sake, it did.**

**okay?  
okay.**

**i didn't realize what i did until i just did it. did you see what i did there? **


	3. You Make Me Happy

A week passed before Steve convinced Tony to tell the rest of the team.

_"They live with us. They are our friends, our teammates. We can't keep something like this from them."_

_"Sure we can. Here's how: we don't say anything about it."_

_"They're going to notice that there's something different about you Tony."_

_"Who says anything is going to be different?"_

_"Well, I mean… you're gonna lose weight. And your hair is probably going to fall out. And…" Steve closed his eyes. When they went to the hospital to set up a plan for treatment, Steve had seen so many faces with hollowed out cheeks and pale skin._

_"So basically I'm going to get ugly."_

_"I didn't say that."_

_"Have you ever seen a gangly bald guy and thought 'man I wanna jump that'?"_

_"No—"_

_"Right, because it's not a thing."_

_"Well the only man I've ever wanted to _jump_ is you, so I don't think it's really a fair comparison."_

_"Fine, whatever, we'll tell them!"_

That's how they all ended up all sitting around the giant table, not speaking to each other.

"So are you going to tell us what this is all about or can I leave?" Clint asked.

"You can leave. Hey Steve, can I leave?" Tony started to get up but Steve pushed him back in the chair with a firm _No_. "_Fine_. Okay, so Steve'll try and sugarcoat it, so here goes: I have cancer. Now that it's said, I'll be leaving." He didn't even get a chance to stand before Steve pushed him back in the chair.

The room was stunned silent for a solid thirty seconds before Natasha spoke. "So have you spoken to the doctors about treatments?"

"We're going to try chemo."

"I'm going to go down to the hospital and work out a confidentiality agreement with everyone and anyone that you will be interacting with. It's best if we keep this out of the media for right now," Coulson stated. From the outside it seemed like nothing more than a professional act, but Tony knew Coulson and he knew that this was his way of trying to help.

"Thanks. _Now_," Tony slammed his hands down on the arm of his chair, "I want a burger. Who's up for burgers?" He stood.

"We know you well enough to know that you're just trying to change the subject, Tony," Natasha said. Her words were harsh but her tone was affectionate.

"No, I just want a burger."

"Tony—" Steve said.

"I want a goddamn burger!" Tony kicked his chair and it flipped back before storming out of the room.

Steve had his hands firmly planted on the table as he looked at the floor. The entire room was silent, staring at the door Tony had just stormed out of. Steve was aware that their focus was slowly shifting to him. "He's a bit temperamental right now," he whispered. "Sorry."

None of the Avengers were particularly good with emotions, but they had been getting better since moving in with each other two years ago. Regardless of their progress, none of them knew how to handle the situation.

It was Bruce who was the first to move. He walked to Steve and started rubbing circles on his back. Bruce didn't say a word, but Steve melted into his touch. After a few minutes of silence, Natasha spoke. "Should we go look for him?"

"Probably."

* * *

They found him at a Five Guys in New Jersey. There were the wrappers for at least three burgers and a half eaten container of french fries spread around him. He was staring at a wall, his face sad. _He always looks sad when he thinks no one can see_. Steve thought, then shook the thought from his head.

The rest of the team hung back as Steve walked up to Tony. "Hey honey," he greeted, placing his hand on Tony's shoulder before sitting next to him. "Are you feeling any better."

"Yeah. I was just grumpy because I was hungry." Steve tried not to feel hurt at the fact that Tony was blatantly lying to him, but he reminded himself that Tony was scared and that he would open up when the time came.

"You ate without us?" Clint asked, sitting down at the table next to them. The rest of the team followed suit. "I was looking forward to a burger."

"I'm not stopping you," Tony grumbled. Steve could tell that Tony's defenses were going up. When Steve got there, Tony had been naked, alone with his thoughts. He was cautious when Steve showed up, but now he was totally unreadable. They weren't pretending the problem wasn't there, but they were trying to show Tony that everything could stay normal. That in itself proved that it wouldn't be. "The bacon's worth the extra money." He pushed back his chair and stood. "Natasha, will you accompany me on a walk?"

"Uh… sure?" Once they were out of the burger shop, Tony led her to his car. "I thought you wanted to go for a walk."

"I detest walks. We're going for a drive." Natasha didn't argue. Instead, she opened the door and slipped into the seat next to Tony, fastening her seatbelt. They sped out of the parking lot and Tony was silent for a solid two minutes. "Remember when we first met?"

"Yes."

"And how, for so long after, we called each other _Stark_ and _Agent Romanoff_?"

"Yes."

"And as time went on, you became one of my closest friends, and even though you're a spy and for all I know you could have been lying to me all these years, I trust you more than anyone else. Besides Steve."

"Oh." Natasha was aware that she had become close to Tony, as well as the other Avengers, but it hadn't dawned on her just how much until Tony had told her point blank. "I trust you, too." It was surprisingly easy for her to say and… it wasn't a lie.

"That's why I need a favor. It's, uh… it's kind of a big favor."

"What do you need."

"I need you to come with me to the hospital on Friday for my first round of chemo." Before she could protest, he continued. "I know it's a lot to ask, but I don't know what it's going to be like. I'm really scared and I don't want Steve to see me like that. I don't want to scare him."

"Oh… um."

"Please, Natasha?"

"Should you be keeping something like this from him?"

"No." She looked at him pointedly, waiting for an explanation. "I just have to right now. We've all lied to one another."

"We're not all newlyweds."

"Are you going to help me or not? There are a bunch of other people in that burger place that would be happy to help me out. Well, maybe not happy, but I could persuade them." He stopped at a red light and looked to her. "I'd prefer it'd be you."

She sighed. "I'm going to regret this, but yes. I'll take you."

* * *

Clint was already halfway through his second burger and Coulson was looking at him adoringly. Steve smiled a little, thinking of Tony and how even the simplest things he did seemed perfect. He was sure he had looked at Tony the same way his friends was looking at his boyfriend.

He saw Tony and Natasha coming back through the wall of windows. He held the door open for her and she smiled. Steve was painfully curious of what they had talked about, but thought it best not to ask. At least not right then.

"Welcome back."

"What did you talk about?" Clint asked. Well, at least Steve didn't have to worry about being the nosy one.

"If you were meant to know, we would have talked about it at the table," Tony shot. He was grinning a little. Once upon a time, Steve was fooled by that grin. Once upon a time, they _all_ were fooled by it. Steve didn't know if Tony thought he was fooling anyone, of if he was doing it for himself.

"If you must know," Natasha said smoothly. "We were talking about the time when I was undercover at Stark Industries. The memories are so different now that we know each other. It came up, actually, that we went to a restaurant once and that neither of us have gone back to it since."

Tony grabbed onto the bait. "Yeah. We made a lunch date for Friday for old times sake."

"Your first chemotherapy session is on Friday," Steve reminded.

"Well," Natasha said. "If you don't mind, I could just take him after lunch."

"Uh… well…" Steve looked to Tony.

"It's fine with me if it's fine with you," Tony stated.

"Sure, I guess."

"Perf. I'm looking forward to the house salad."

* * *

"What did you actually talk about with Natasha?" Steve asked as he crawled into bed next to Tony. Tony was drinking a glass of water and silently praying that he would be able to sleep through the night.

"We talked about when she was undercover at Stark Industries," Tony answered automatically.

"Neither of you are nostalgic. Why won't you just tell me."

"I'm not lying, Steve." And technically, he wasn't. They had talked about when they first met, it just wasn't _all_ they talked about.

"Why are you getting so defens—"

"I'm not getting defensive, Steve. It's just very frustrating that you don't trust me. Have I ever given you reason not to trust me?" _Yes_, Tony thought. _Right now_.

"No, I suppose not."

"Exactly. Now come cuddle me. I wanna soak up all the Steve love while I still can."

"What do you mean by that?" Steve asked, horrified. Was Tony suggesting that he planned on _dying_.

"While I'm still awake? I don't want the night to end with a fight."

"Oh, then of course."

* * *

"Hi, I'm Connor. Connor Hart." The twenty something was sticking his hand out at Tony to shake. There was a circle of four plush chairs, one of which Tony was sitting in. Each had a medical cart beside it.

"So?"

Connor sat down in the chair directly across from Tony. He moved his oxygen tank so that the footrest wouldn't hit it, and pulled the lever to put his feet up. "I met your… Steve."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Connor looked at his lap and frowned. "He was worried."

"When?"

"Last week some time? I… I didn't really put it together. I knew I recognized him. And when he said something about a husband—"

"He said something about me?" Tony asked. Had Steve been confiding in this post-pubescent?

"He… uh… he said that you couldn't be sick. Not like tha—this." There was a sad smile on Connor's face and he was still looking at his lap. "I'm sorry."

"Nah. Nothing you did."

"I know, but no one deserves this."

There was a long silence. They sat in their chairs and made a point not to look at each other. Tony thought about how unfair it all was. He _did_ deserved something like this. He knew that he didn't deserve the good things he had in his life. He didn't deserve Steve as a husband. He didn't deserve Natasha who would come with him here because he was too emotionally constipated to tell his husband that he was scared. He didn't deserve to have friends living in his tower. He deserved money that didn't buy anything and the robots he invented to keep himself company.

Even though Tony was sure that he deserved what he was getting—that it was a lifetime of karma coming to bite him in the ass—he hated the he had to drag Steve into it. Sweet and kind and perfect Steve who would never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. Tony had let Steve love him, and he had let himself love Steve, and now this is what they got for it.

"You look like you're thinking really hard about something," Connor said. Tony hadn't realized it, but Connor had taken a magazine out of his bag and started reading it.

"Not important." Connor smirked and looked back at his magazine. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"Really?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You look older."

"I get that a lot. Six years of this," he gestures around the room, "ages you."

"Six years?" Tony asked. Would he be here in six years?

"Well, on and off. Every time I'd get better for a bit, I'd end up back in this chair."

"I'm sorry."

"I was thirteen when I was diagnosed. I don't know much else _but_ this. My formative years were spent with wires and beeping."

Tony thought back to his own formative years. What had he known? Booze and sex and drugs and money. "That sucks."

"You win some and you lose some. I could be bitter but there's a whole world of opportunities out there and even if I don't get a chance to have those opportunities, I know that someone, somewhere will, and that knowledge… it helps. Speaking of opportunities, what does it feel like to be a superhero."

"I fly and blow stuff up."

"And is that good or bad?"

"It is what it is."

"Does Tony Stark not know what he feels about his own line of work?"

"It's not a line of work."

"Then what is it? Has saving the world become a hobby?"

"Look, kid. I don't know you. We're not having this conversation, okay?"

"I can feel it. You want to tell me. You will, eventually. But don't worry. We'll have a lot of these chats."

Tony liked the kid already.

* * *

"How are you feeling."

"Absolutely horrible. And you Agent Romanoff?"

She smiled a little at the name. "I'm doing pretty well."

"What, did you kill someone while I was in there?"

This time the smile was across her entire face. "Maybe. I don't kill and tell, you know that, Stark. And you can't be doing that badly if you're making jokes."

"I'll be making jokes on my deathbed and you know it." Tony got in the passenger seat of Natasha's car. He was under explicit instructions by the doctors (and Steve) that he was _not_ to drive after chemo. The doctors he'd ignore but sometimes he was afraid of Steve.

Halfway home, Tony started to feel sick. He clenched his eyes shut and told himself it was motion sickness. He locked his jaw and refused to give in. "There's this kid."

"What?" Natasha asked.

"There's this kid named Connor."

"I'm sure there are a lot of kids named Connor, Tony."

"This Connor is different."

"Oh? How is that?"

"I don't know." Tony went back to holding his head and trying not to vomit in Natasha's car.

* * *

Steve was _not_ sitting by the door waiting. He had _not_ spent the day waiting for Tony to get home. He was _not_ tapping his pencil against his leg out of nerves; it was his creative process. He was _not_ watching the clock. He was _not_—that was the sound of the door opening.

Steve jumped up and ran to Tony. Natasha was not with him, so Steve took that as a good sign. "How are you feeling?" he asked, not sure if he should grab Tony or not.

"Never been better, my love." Steve sighed in relief. "How was your day?"

Steve had not been expecting to talk about himself. "I didn't do much. I went for a run this afternoon and then I did some sketching. I put dinner in the oven and… yeah, nothing else. How was lunch?"

At the mention of food, Tony's stomach betrayed him and he vomited on Steve's white shirt. "Fuck, sorr—"

"Baby, baby, shh. It's okay. Don't be sorry," Steve soothed. He ran his hands over Tony's face, through his hair, up and down his arms. His heart rate had sped up. Of course Steve wasn't a stranger to Tony's vomit. Tony had been a recovering alcoholic when they started dating and there was that one time when he got the flu. Tony throwing up should not have scared him as much as it did. "Baby, you're okay. Okay? I'm going to bring you to bed, okay?" he rambled.

"I'm _fine_," Tony insisted pushing Steve off. He regretted it immediately, because Steve looked betrayed. "I'm fine," he repeated, calmer. "I'm sorry. Let me get you cleaned up." He started toward the bedroom and crossed to Steve's dresser to get a shirt. Steve could have stopped him in a second, but maybe this was Tony's way of coping. He stood back and let Tony grab him a shirt and a pair of pants, both identical to the ones Steve was currently wearing, minus the vomit. "You need more variety."

"Yeah. I'll let you take me shopping one of these days."

"I don't have much variety, either. At least not in casual clothes."

"Then you can't criticize me."

"Yes I can. It's my job. Strip," Tony instructed. Steve was confused—Tony had never taken this kind of care of him before—but he went along with it, pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it to the floor. Tony wiped Steve's chest down with the damp cloth he had grabbed in the bathroom, making sure to clean up anything that had seeped through. "Sorry about that, baby."

"Not a problem," Steve insisted. He shivered a bit when Tony placed a kiss in the center of his chest.

"Pants off."

"Please don't give me a blow job."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "I wasn't going to, but may I ask why not?"

"Because you just puked?"

"Oh right. I forgot about that." There wasn't too much puke on Steve's pants, so Tony didn't bother with the cloth. Nothing had seeped through, anyway. Tony pulled Steve's shirt over his head, letting his hands linger on the soldier's chest. Steve pulled his own pants on. Tony bent over and picked up the stained clothes. As soon as he stood up, he made a choking sound and threw up again, this time only on himself and the already soiled clothes, which he dropped as he gagged. "I'm okay," he gasped, gagging again.

"No you're not. Take off your clothes and get in bed," Steve demanded. When Tony didn't move, Steve pushed his shoulders back, shoving Tony towards the bed. "Clothes off. Under the covers," he said in his most Captain America-esq voice.

"Why don't you use that voice in bed?" Tony smirked, but pulled his shirt over his head. Steve rolled his eyes and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a wet cloth and a glass of water. Tony had propped himself against the wall of pillows against the headboard.

"Forehead," he instructed, handing Tony the cloth. "Drink." Tony took the water and sipped it. "JARVIS?"

"_Yes Captain_?"

"Friends, Season 1, episode 1."

"_Yes Captain_."

"Only if you join me," Tony said. The windows had already dimmed and the TV had turned on. Tony had passed on his guilty pleasure of sitcoms to Steve.

"Of course baby. I'm just going to throw the clothes in the wash and I'll be right back."

"Promise?" Tony asked.

"Of course." And Steve didn't even hesitate to peck Tony on the lips, vomit and all.


	4. When Skies are Gray

Steve was _terrified._

Tony was letting Steve take care of him. He still apologized when he threw up on Steve, but he didn't try and re-dress him. He got home from chemo, went straight to bed, and let Steve bring him water and a bucket and a cool cloth. He didn't complain about being Steve's "bitch" when Steve carried him places. He fell asleep watching TV, which he used to yell at Steve for.

He kept telling Steve he was fine. He was always smiling. He said that he was just letting Steve take care of him for Steve's own peace of mind. Steve could see right through the lie; Tony was too proud to do something like that, no matter how much he loved Steve.

So, in short, Steve was terrified.

"Look, maybe you should just talk to him about it," Bruce said. Steve had called him in his lab, babbling about friends of friends who should be friends and Bruce had offered to meet Steve for lunch. Natasha had taken Tony to the hospital for the eighth week in a row to chemo; Steve hadn't taken him once.

"And how would that conversation go? 'Please go back to being your usual stubborn ass self because it will make me feel better because I'm worried because you're sick and possibly probably dying'?"

Bruce trailed a french fry though the honey mustard he had requested. "He can't be both possibly _and_ probably dying."

"Who's side are you on here?" Steve demanded.

"I'm on no one's side. I'm not married to him, but he's my best friend and I'm just as worried about him as you are. Please don't make this all about you."

Steve bit down on his lower lip. Steve had been making it all about him an awful lot lately; the only person who he was being selfless with was the person causing him the pain. "I'm sorry."

"Maybe, if you're not ready to talk about it with Tony, you should see a professional."

"Like a shrink?" Steve drew his eyebrows together.

"Yeah. Tony is, so—" Bruce stopped speaking abruptly when he saw Steve's face. "You didn't know?"

"No," Steve grunted, his jaw clenched. "No, I did not."

"Well, I mean, not a _professional_, professional. He's been talking to me; he's been doing it since before he got sick—"

Steve pushed away his chair. He was done with this conversation.

* * *

"So here's the thing: I loved doing it. I was a fucking superhero," Tony exclaimed.

"Sure, sure," Connor nodded along.

"But then New York happened and now there are five other people who can do what I do, better than I can do it."

"Well, none of them flew the nuke into—are you alright?"

"Fine," Tony huffed out, unclenching his fingernails from the armrests of the chair. The anxiety had mostly gone away, time and Steve healing most of the wounds, but it was still on the list of Least Favorite Subjects.

"Why don't you ever talk about Steve?" Connor asked.

"I like to keep him and here in different states of mind."

"Oh… who brings you?"

"Natasha. Who brings you?"

"Mom."

"Ah." There was a lull in the conversation as Tony tried _really hard_ not to be jealous of the Kid With Cancer just because he had a mom that cared about him. What if he had a dad oh God—"What do you wanna know about Steve?" Tony asked, desperate to divert his own train of thought.

"I thought you wanted to keep him in a different state of mind."

"He's in every state of my mind."

Connor smiled a little. "How'd you meet him?"

It was the single most fundamental question and Tony should have been prepared for it, but, of course, he wasn't. "I—you're still under that confidentiality contract, right?"

Connor cocked one eyebrow. "Yeeeess…"

"Well then congrats. You're one of the few people who know that Iron Man is married to Captain America."

"No fuckin' way, dude that's _awesome_!"

"We tend to think so."

"I just—" Connor ran his fingers through his hair. "That's just so fucking badass."

"But seriously, you can't tell anyone."

"Legally, I can't."

"Legality has nothing to do with anything."

* * *

Steve, as always, jumped up when he heard Tony coming in the door. He rushed to him, speech prepared about how they needed to be open with each other and how they needed to be a team in all of it, but when he laid his eyes on Tony, he looked so _tired_. So defeated. So unlike himself. He looked up at Steve and it happened.

He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Steve's waist, slamming his face into Steve's chest. His whole body shook with violent sobs and all Steve could do was hold on. He wasn't sure how long they stood there, but eventually Tony pulled away. He was red eyes and snot and tear streaks and stuck together eyelashes. He breathed in, one long, shaky breath. "Hi."

"Hi," Steve said.

"Can you bring me to bed?" Tony asked, his voice small. Steve nodded and scooped him up, walking to their room and laying him gently on the bed. As soon as Tony was tucked until the covers, Steve ran to the other side of the bed and crawled in, spooning into Tony. They were quiet for a long time and Steve was certain that Tony had fallen asleep, until he heard Tony whisper, "I'm sorry."

"Baby, it's okay. Shh," Steve pressed a kiss to the back of Tony's neck. "Shh, it's okay. You can cry."

"No."

"Yes."

"No, Steve. You don't understand. I'm sorry… I'm sorry I got sick. I'm sorry that you have to take care of me. I'm sorry that I can't be strong for you and I'm sorry that I'm scared. I'm sorry that I have to involve you in this. I'm sorry… I'm sorry that you love me but…" Tony rolled over. There were fresh tears on his face. "I'm not sorry that I love you."

Steve kissed his forehead, holding him tighter. "I'm not sorry that I love you. It's not your fault you're sick, baby. But you know what?" Steve took Tony's face in his hands, forcing the other man to lock eyes with him. "You're going to get better. You are. And then we're going to spend the rest of our lives together, driving each other insane because that's what we do. Okay?"

Tony nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Please stop saying you're sorry."

"But I am."

Steve realized that, even though he shouldn't, Tony felt like this was his fault. At the thought, Steve pulled him in closer. Tony buried his face into Steve's chest and grabbed fistfuls of Steve's shirt. Tony started shaking again as he cried; Steve just let slow tears roll down his face. Eventually, Tony cried himself to sleep. Steve kissed the top of his head. "You're going to get better. You are."

* * *

Even though he denied it, Tony had been losing his hair. Steve found clumps of it in the shower drain, on Tony's clothes when he did laundry, stuck between his fingers when he would massage Tony's scalp. When he brought it up, however, Tony snapped at him.

"I am _not_ losing my hair."

"Honey, it's everywhere."

"No it's not."

"Tony, please."

"Well what do you expect me to do about it?" Steve brought forward the hand he had behind his back, in it, a razor. "Oh no."

"Tony."

Tony squeezed his eyes shut and shoved his palms into them as if that would somehow dull the pain of what he was about to say. "Only if you do it and only if you do it right now."

"In the kitchen?"

"Yes, in the kitchen. No mirrors."

Tony clenched his eyes shut as he felt the razor skim over his scalp. He felt it fall on his shoulders. He pictured it piling onto the floor.

"The beard goes too," Steve insisted. Tony just nodded his head.

* * *

It wasn't a week before it was on the cover a tabloid. _TONY STARK NO LONGER DONS SIGNATURE BEARD: HIS NEW HUSBAND'S INFLUENCE?_ There was a picture of him, Captain America hat secured on his head, bald faced and smiling dopily, gazing at Steve. He picked it off the rack and paid the four dollars.

"Don't read that shit." Steve's pleas fell on deaf ears, as Tony was already flipping to the article.

Tony began reading aloud as they strolled down the streets of New York. "_Tony Stark enjoys lunch out with his new husband, Steve Rogers-Stark. The two have been inseparable since they first went public with their relationship ten months ago. Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man, sports a hat with the red-white-and-blue emblem of Avengers teammate, Captain America. Uh-oh. Let's hope Steve doesn't get jealous!_" Tony looked at Steve and both smirked. Tony returned to the article. "_Everything seems normal except for one thing: the signature beard that Stark has donned since before any of us can remember is gone._" Tony stopped reading. "I'm not _that_ old!" he exclaimed.

Steve wrapped his arm around Tony and pulled him close, kissing his temple. "Why are you still reading that?" he asked.

"Why not?" he asked before returning to the magazine. "_Is this a result of his newfound domesticity? We haven't seen Iron Man flying around since before the wedding. Could Steve be taking this marriage as a way to change Mr. Stark? Only time will tell_." Tony threw the magazine in a trash can as they walked by it. "Remind me not to take off the hat."

"Duly noted."

* * *

"I like the hat. Unfortunately I feel like this is trouble in paradise. Is your new husband going to get jealous of you sporting your teammate's attire?" Connor joked.

"I see you read the tabloids," Tony rolled his eyes. "How come your hair isn't falling out?"

"Not everyone's does. I guess I'm just lucky."

Lucky? Tony spent all of his time feeling sorry for himself, and here was Connor calling himself lucky. "How do you stay optimistic like that?"

"I told you before. There is someone out there who got married today. Someone who just held their baby for the first time. There's a little girl who just came in first at her swim meet. Some kid just brought home a report card with straight A's. There's so much good in the world that I find it pointless to focus on the bad." Connor reclined in his chair. "When do I get to meet Steve?"

"I don't know."

"So Natasha. She's Black Widow, right?"

"Yeah. But don't tell her I told you that or she'll fucking kill me."

"Kill you faster than cancer?"

Tony didn't answer.

* * *

"Hey Steve?"

"Yeah?" Steve looked up to see Clint coming into the room. He had been making soup for Tony to eat when he woke up after his post-chemo nap, although those had been getting longer and longer, and sometimes he even slept until morning.

"You proposed to Tony, right?"

_"I'm going to build something that sits at the front door, and you stick your feet in it, and it sucks all of the sand off so that you don't track it through the house." Tony explained. They were on island #4 and they were lazily strolling along the beach, their sandals in their hands._

_"But that doesn't account for the sand that's in the beach blanket, or the umbrella, or the towels, or the swimsuits."_

_"Okay, so it's a work in progress." Tony shrugged and stopped walking. "I'm not really a sentimental person, but ocean sunsets are beautiful. And they're even more beautiful when I'm with y—Steve?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Why are you kneeling in the sand?"_

_"Because I'm asking you to marry me," Steve explained, producing a ring. "Please say yes."_

_"What else would I say?" Tony asked, holding out his hand for Steve to put the ring on. "Well, shit. I guess my sappy statement about sunsets got you a little _too_ in the mood, because, well…" Tony reached into his own pocket and pulled out a ring. "Great minds think alike?"_

_Steve laid down on the sand and pulled Tony down next to him. They made love on the beach with the rising tide lapping against their toes._

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat at the memory. "Yeah."

"How did you… um… how did you know it was time?"

"As in that moment, or as in the general state of the relationship?" Steve turned the soup down to a simmer and sat at the counter across from Clint. "I'm guess this has something to do with Coulson?"

"I love him," Clint admitted, wringing his hands together. "But we're still… nobody knows, you know? Like… the team knows, of course, but the rest of SHIELD doesn't, and I know that's a big hangup for him."

"Well what's been your thought process up until this point?"

Clint hid a small smile. "This morning, when I woke up, he was still asleep. I just… I couldn't bring myself to wake him, so I just… I watched him sleep. I watched the rise and fall of his chest. I thought about what if felt like when I thought he was dead. And I realized that I wanted to wake up next to him every day for the rest of my life and, given that our lines of work aren't exactly predictable—"

"Do it."

"Huh?"

"Do it. You won't regret it. You love him and he loves you."

* * *

Thursday night, Tony had his head resting in Steve's lap as Steve read aloud to him. Tony wasn't listening to the story so much as Steve's voice. He couldn't tell you the character's names, let alone the plot of the story, but he couldn't stand the thought of Steve stopping. He began drifting to sleep, the sound of Steve reading to him as soothing as a lullaby. He had been taking a lot more naps in the past two months. It was his body's way of fighting back, he reminded himself. It worried him no less.

"Are you even listening?" Steve asked, lowering in the book.

"A little," he mumbled into Steve's leg.

Steve ran his hands over Tony's bald head. Tony frowned. Home was the only place he ever took the hat off, but he still hated the fact that his hair was gone. Steve pulled his hand back and awkwardly leaned down to kiss Tony's forehead. "You seem tired. Why don't we go to be bed?"

"It's 8:30."

"And you're falling asleep."

"I'm sorry I'm so boring now."

"You're not boring. This is your body fighting back. You haven't been coughing as much recently."

Tony thought about it for a moment. "You're right." Steve closed his eyes and smiled. _This is good_, he thought. _This is very good_.

* * *

It was very not-good. He woke up to Tony clawing at Steve's chest. He looked over at his husband to see him desperately trying to breathe, while choking out something that sounded a lot like _please._ Steve was out of bed in an instant, scooping Tony in his arms, and running out the door. He didn't care that he was in nothing but his boxers. He didn't care that Tony was wearing Captain America pajamas. All he cared about was getting Tony to the hospital.

He was halfway out the door when Tony gasped out _Hat_. Steve placed Tony on the love-seat just inside the door and scrambled around for a few moments in an attempt to find Tony's hat. When he laid eyes on it, he grabbed it quickly and picked Tony up again, sprinting out the door.

He reclined the passenger seat almost all the way, only leaving a little incline to keep Tony's head above his chest. He threw the hat on Tony's chest and ran around to the driver's side. He peeled out of the garage while Tony struggled to put the hat on his head. Steve kept looking over at him, scared by how much trouble Tony was having _putting on a hat_. Even worse was the terrified look on Tony's face.

"It's okay baby. We're almost there. Okay? We're gonna fix it. They're gonna fix it. You're going to be alright. Okay. Just a few more miles." Steve pressed down harder on the gas.

Tony was sent straight to ICU where they sedated him and drained his lungs. Steve wasn't allowed to see him for eight hours.

* * *

_Tony was laying on the couch, playing with a holograph. His tongue was sticking out just a little bit to the side. Steve smiled and sat down at his feet. Tony didn't even look up, just kept working. Given their rocky start, no one expected Steve and Tony to be such close friends, least of all them._

_After the events of New York, Steve went out to travel across America and Tony returned to Malibu where he attempted to continue his relationship with Pepper. Steve remembered watching Tony's house fall into the ocean on the news, his heart in his throat. He had never been more relieved as when he heard Tony was alive and moving permanently to New York. Steve had made his way back to the Big Apple to find that newly-single Tony had renovated Stark Tower to house five other people. Five specific people._

_The rest of the Avengers took their time moving in, but Steve jumped on the opportunity. He knew a peace offering when he saw one, and there was an invitation waiting for him when he returned to his apartment. That afternoon he packed up his few belongings and headed to Stark Tower._

_All of this ran through his head as he watched Tony work. He took out his sketch book and focused on his friend. He loved drawing him when he was in his element; when Tony was so far gone in a project he was unaware of anything around him. Not even a super solider sitting on the couch with him._

_Steve wasn't sure how long they were like that, but he was shading Tony's feet when they moved to his lap. He looked over to see that Tony was looking at him. "How long have you been there?"_

_"A while."_

_"Oh. Sorry."_

_"It's okay. I was just drawing."_

_"Can I see?"_

_"It's not done."_

_"Okay." Steve was grateful that Tony never prodded when it came to Steve's art. He knew it was personal to Steve and that Steve would show him when he was ready. He turned back to his drawing when he felt something poke at his cheek. He turned back to Tony to see that Tony was poking Steve's face with his big toe._

_"What the hell?"_

_"I'm bored."_

_"Go back to work."_

_"No." He poked him again, this time with the other foot. He grasped Steve's face in between his feet and turned Steve's head so that he was looking at Tony. "Look at me."_

_"I _am_ looking at you. I'm looking at your gross feet touching my face."_

_"Oh, are you one of those feet people? Like, that can't stand feet?"_

_"No, I'm just not keen on them on my face." Tony responded to that by poking Steve again. Steve grabbed Tony's ankles and he watched as the grin on Tony's face turned to panic._

_"You wouldn't."_

_"I would."_

_"Please, Steve, don't."_

_"Why not?"_

_"Because I'll kick you in the face if you do." Steve tickled him anyway. Tony involuntarily jerked and… "Fuck I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it. I didn't actually mean to kick you in the face." Tony sat up and was moving towards Steve in an instant. "Let me look at it," he said._

_"It's fine. It didn't really hurt."_

_"No, let me look at it." Tony mounted Steve, placing his knees on either side of Steve's hips so that he could easily switch his gaze between the two sides of Steve's face, comparing the kicked side to the non-kicked side._

_"Am I okay Dr. Stark?" Tony was just inches from Steve's face, examining his left cheek. He could feel Tony's breath on his neck. He felt the movement of Tony's leg as he wiggled his toes—something he had come to know as one of Tony's ticks. Steve had never thought of Tony _that way_ before, but in that second everything made sense. Why his sketch books were filled with Tony, why he was willing to sit in silence when his presence wasn't even know, why seeing Tony immediately made him smile._

_"You're okay," Tony whispered, leaning back. He didn't get out of Steve's lap. They looked at each other for a few moments. Before Steve could stop himself, he was putting his hands on Tony's hips. Tony's eyes widened and he looked down, as if seeing them would make it untrue. He looked back up a Steve. "Steve?" he asked._

_"Yeah?" Steve breathed._

_"Can I try something?"_

_"Yes." Tony stared into Steve's eyes for a few moments before reaching up and sliding his knuckle under Steve's chin, titling his face back. He leaned in until he was so close Steve could almost feel him, but not quite. Tony pulled away._

_"If we do this… there is no going back. Nothing can be the same."_

_"I know," Steve whispered._

_"And… and it could ruin everything we have now."_

_"No it won't." Tony was still hesitant. "Do it," Steve insisted. Tony leaned forward and placed a quick kiss to Steve's lips before pulling back as if he'd been shocked._

_"Was… was that okay?" he asked. It was the closest Steve had ever seen Tony to being flustered._

_"Yeah. It was okay."_

_"Can, I… uh…"_

_"You can do it again if you want."_

_"Do you… uh…"_

_"I want you to, Tony."_

_"Oh, okay. Good." He parted his lips a bit this time as he leaned toward Steve. Steve did the same._

* * *

"Mr. Stark?" Steve jostled awake, looking around. A nurse had placed her hand on his shoulder. She looked taken aback for a few moments before recovering.

"Yes ma'am?"

"Tony's been asking for you."

"Am I allowed to see him?" Steve asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes. His time in the army had trained him to be able to sleep just about anywhere, but that didn't make the stiff hospital chairs any more appealing.

"Yes, but he's pretty upset."

"Why?" Steve asked, standing. He had a solid eight inches on the nurse and she shrunk back. He hadn't meant to be intimidating. "Why?" he asked more calmly as they walked. It didn't take long, however, to hear Tony's shouting.

The nurse opened the door to a room. "There's no fucking way!" Tony shouted and threw a cup of ice chips at her. It hit Steve.

"Oh, Steve. Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were here. I thought they were going to call you."

"I was just out in the hall," Steve explained. He didn't need to ask why Tony was upset. Wrapped around his ears, resting just below his nose was a tube connected to an oxygen tank beside his bed.

"These mother fuckers are trying to get me to wear this thing. I am _fine_."

Steve walked over to Tony and took his hand. "Baby, if this is what they say you need, then you need to wear it, okay? It's just until you get better." Tony grumbled but rested back on the inclined bed. Steve was just relieved he had stopped searching for something else to throw at the nurse.

"I look stupid."

"No you don't."

"You're just saying that because you love me."

"No I'm not."

"I can't leave the tower now. Everyone will know." Steve looked at Tony. Even though Tony wasn't looking at him, Steve could tell that he was on the verge of tears. Steve grabbed Tony's face in his hands and turned it so that they were eye to eye.

He kissed him lightly, just like that first kiss on the couch. "It's okay, baby. It's going to be okay. I love you and you love me and we're going to get through this together." Tony gave a weak but genuine smile. Steve smiled back. "You're my sunshine."

"I love you, Steve."

"I love you, too."

* * *

"Pleasure to meet you, Cap!" A very enthusiastic Connor shoved his hand in Steve's direction. Steve furrowed his brow and looked at Tony.

Tony just shrugged. "I told him."

"_Tony_," Steve hissed.

"What? He's under that confidentiality contract Coulson set up."

"That's still… kind of a huge deal. I don't think that's what Coulson meant when he set it up."

"I don't care. Connor's my pal. You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

"No sir." Connor smirked. "I see you've joined the club," he said running his finger along the tube behind Tony's ear. Tony glared at him in a way that was in no way joking and Connor apologized immediately. While they joked with each other, they both understood that the other had boundaries.

"So is this what you do when you're here? Talk with _him_?"

"Why the hostility?" Connor asked. He had already sat down in his chair and produced another magazine.

"You were an ass when we first met."

"I know. I'm sorry. But… I wasn't wrong, was I?" Steve felt anger surge through his chest. "You're not going to punch a hole in the wall, are you Cap?" he asked. "Because if you are, I'm totally okay with that. It would be _fucking awesome_."

"Don't call me Cap."

"Sorry, Steve."

"Jesus, Steve. You're telling him he was an ass when you first met, but you're not doing much better yourself." Tony shot. He adjusted his hospital gown awkwardly. Steve hadn't thought to bring Tony a change of clothes. He had gone back to the tower for a bit while Tony was still in ICU to put on clothes instead of just standing around in his boxers.

Tony sat down in his chair opposite Connor and smirked. "Got anything?" he asked Connor. The kid reached into his backpack and threw a magazine at Tony. Tony glanced the cover. "Funny."

"I thought so." It was an issue of Rolling Stone from 2010 with Tony on the cover. The magazine declard _Tony Stark Wants to Save the World_. He didn't remember doing the interview, but apparently he had because he saw himself quoted multiple times as he glanced at the article.

"Ca—Steve?" Connor asked.

"Yeah?"

"Can I have your autograph?" Tony dropped the magazine. "What?" Connor asked.

"You never asked for _my_ autograph!"

Connor smirked and grabbed a third magazine out of his bag. Captain America had done an interview with TIME magazine shortly after the Attack on New York. There he was on the cover, looking at the ground, in full gear, his shield on his back. He remembered talking to the reporter in full gear and how uncomfortable it was.

"Sure," Steve smiled and grabbed the magazine and sharpie from Connor's hands and signed _Captain America "Cap"._ Then, as an afterthought:_ Thanks for being there for him -Steve_. When he handed the magazine back to Connor, he watched as his expression changed from joy to something else entirely.

"You're welcome," he said. It was the first time Steve had seen him serious.

"You're welcome for what?" Tony asked. Steve and Connor were still looking at each other. "Okay, you're going to leave me out. That's fine. Hey kid, have you been carrying that magazine with you in hopes I'd bring the big lug with me?"

"Yes."

"Good man."

* * *

"I wanna watch _High School Musical_," Tony said, yawning. They had gotten back from the hospital, he got into his pajamas, and they were tucked into bed for their after-chemo movie/TV show/nap.

"Are you serious?" Steve asked.

"Yes." Clint had picked it as his movie for movie night once. He had done it to irritate the rest of the team, but to everyone's surprise, they enjoyed it. Tony became the biggest fan of them all, downloading the soundtracks and buying the second two movies. The team teased him about it relentlessly.

"Okay." JARVIS queued up the movie. Tony was asleep before the first song, but Steve watched it all the way through, just so Tony could listen to it while he slept.


	5. You'll Never Know, Dear

"I have returned!" Thor bellowed. Everyone was sitting around the coffee table in the living room. Well, Natasha, Clint, and Bruce were sitting. Tony was lying down with his head in Steve's lap on the couch. They had been trying to play a card game—an act of domesticity that none of them were entirely comfortable with, but fun none-the-less—but it was hard to focus on the fun when Tony kept coughing.

At Thor's entrance, however, Tony sat up. "Hey big guy," he said with a weak smile.

"_Anthony_? What has happened to you?" Thor walked forward and touched the tube under Tony's nose before running his thumb over where his beard used to be. "What is this machine?"

"Why don't you take a seat?" Natasha suggested, getting up and grabbing another chair. Everyone shifted their chairs so make room for another one. Thor sat down with the rest of them and looked around the circle.

"What is wrong with Anthony?" he asked.

"I'm sick," Tony sighed. "Really sick. Probably gonna die sick—"

"_Tony_," Steve hissed.

"We're hoping I'm not going to die—"

"He's not going to die," Steve insisted.

"Whether I die or not is not of importance right now."

"It's a disease called cancer," Natasha explained. "Tony has it in his lungs. The machine he's hooked up to helps him breathe."

"Why haven't the healers cured him?" Thor asked.

"There isn't a cure for it," Steve explained. "But he's got the oxygen tank and they're giving him treatment called chemotherapy—"

"Which is basically where they pump poison into me and hope it kills the cancer before it kills me—"

"_Tony_," Steve said again.

"What, Steve? At least we should be honest with him! Don't try to sugarcoat it. It is what it is." Steve stood up and left the room. Tony's body sagged with disappointment. "Sorry guys. I'll go get him." He stood up, grabbed the oxygen tank, and followed after Steve. Steve was on their bed with his head in his hands. "Baby?" Tony asked. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Steve said, his voice heavy with tears. "I just… I don't know what to do."

Tony sat on the bed next to him. "It's okay. I don't think any of us do."

"I'm really scared, and when you say stuff like that…" Steve looked away from Tony and wiped his tears with the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry. It's inconsiderate of me."

"But that's the thing. It's _not_. It's who you are. I'd be more worried if you weren't saying stuff like that, but it doesn't make it any easier."

"I know." Tony started to rub circles on Steve's back.

Steve hiccuped. "Hey, isn't it my job to take care of you?" he asked, a little smile on his face.

"We've never been conventional, now have we? Besides, if you were _constantly_ fussing over me, I'd probably kick you in the balls."

"I don't doubt it." Tony smiled and pulled Steve to him. Steve smushed his face into Tony's chest, mindful of the arc reactor, and allowed Tony to run his fingers through his hair. "Can you just not put stuff like that into the universe? I mean… I know it's a very real possibility, but—"

"Done. And you don't think I actually think I'm gonna die, do you? C'mon. I'm a tough ass. You can't get rid of me with a little cancer. Have some faith in me." Steve sat up and looked into Tony's eyes. "I can't leave you behind." He kissed Steve then. Steve went to rest his hand behind Tony's neck, but his fingers got caught in the tubes.

"Sorry."

"It's okay," Tony mumbled, leaning forward, trying to find Steve's lips again. Steve met him halfway. Tony bit at Steve's bottom lip and Steve's throat tightened. With his eyes closed, he could almost forget. Because Tony tasted the same, like coffee and gum, and his lips were still chapped from biting them, and he was kissing Steve like he always had. But there wasn't the scratch of Tony's beard against his face, and he couldn't tangle his fingers in his hair and he could feel the tubes under Tony's nose bumping against his own and it was wrong so wrong. His cheek brushed against Tony's and all he felt was wetness. He pulled back to see that Tony was crying.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked, running his thumb over Tony's cheek and wiping away the tears.

"It's not the same," Tony muttered, looking down at his hands.

"I know." Steve leaned their foreheads together.

"It's my fault."

"No it's not."

"I love you, Steve. I'm sorry I'm ruining everything. I wish I could give you better."

"Shh, none of that. I love you, too, and that's all I need."

* * *

_Tony wasn't sure what to think. He hadn't woken up beside someone without having had sex the night before… ever. But here he was, slowly blinking awake to see a still sleeping Steve next to him._

_He wanted to touch him. He wanted to reach forward and run his hand over his cheek. He wanted to kiss him awake. He wanted to wake up to this every morning._

_He jumped out of bed and went into the bathroom. It had been over a month since he first kissed Steve and they hadn't had sex yet. What _was_ that? Since when did Tony have a relationship with someone without sex? Since when did Tony wake up with someone at all? He started to splash cold water on his face._

_"What are you doing?"_

_Tony jumped at the sound, but didn't turn around. "Just washing my face." He felt arms wrap around him from behind and Steve was resting his chin on Tony's shoulder and kissing his neck and every fiber of Tony's being was shouting _MAYDAY MAYDAY GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN.

_"Good morning," Steve whispered into Tony's ear._

_"Good morning," Tony answered, trying not to shiver at the feel of Steve's breath on his neck. It felt so good. It felt so _right_. It had never felt right with Pepper. He loved Pepper, but not in the way that she needed him to. And he loved Ste— "I have to go." Tony wriggled his way out of Steve's arms and ran out of the bathroom. Once he was in the bedroom, he fussed around for a bit, trying to find a watch._

_"What's wrong? What did I do wrong? I'm new a this, how do I fix it?"_

_"Nothing. I just have a thing I need to do that I forgot about."_

_"Oh," Steve said, disappointed. It was clear he didn't believe Tony, which was good because Tony was lying. He loved that Steve didn't believe him. Steve not believing him was one of the best things about Steve. His ability to see through Tony's bullshit was yet another reason he lo—_

_"AH!" Tony shouted audibly to stop the thought._

_"'Ah' what?" Steve walked up to Tony and took his arms in his hands. Tony stopped looking at the floor and looked up at Steve. "What's going on?"_

_"You need to leave." Tony watched as Steve's face fell from concern to hurt, and it was almost—_almost—_too much for Tony to handle._

_"Okay," Steve said. He went to the side of the bed he had slept on, grabbed the pants he had worn the day before—no one would notice, most of his pants looked the same—and pulled them on. "I'll, uh… I'll see you around?"_

_"See you around," Tony said, facing the opposite wall as Steve left the room, closing the door behind him. Tony changed his mind and ran to the door almost immediately, his hand on the knob. He threw it open, fully intending to chase after Steve, but Steve was sitting there, leaning against the wall opposite the door. Oh God, was he crying? "I'm sorry," Tony gasped, somehow out of breath._

_"I don't get it. What am I doing wrong?"_

_Tony got down on the floor with him, but didn't touch him. Tony didn't look at Steve and Steve didn't look at Tony. "Nothing. You're doing absolutely nothing wrong at all."_

_"I don't understand."_

_"You're wonderful. I don't deserve you. And I may… there is a huge change that, um…"_

_"You don't have to say it. I think I know."_

_"I'm scared."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because you're the only one I've ever wanted to say it to."_

_"I can wait. There's no rush. But, um… if it makes it any easier. I do, too."_

_Tony didn't say anything more. He just leaned his head on Steve's shoulder._

* * *

"I'm not leaving this tower, Clint," Tony insisted over breakfast. He was trying to eat pancakes, but the syrup was too sweet and it turned his stomach. Steve had gone out of his way to make them, though, so he was trying to finish.

"We'll go incognito. You'll wear a different hat and you'll do the whole shades thing and we'll go somewhere that no one would think to look for you."

"The paparazzi rarely ever go _looking_ for you. They just find you. Well, me."

"Without Steve, without the beard, with a hat and shades and an oxygen tank… you're unrecognizable."

"Yes, thank you Clint. I was unaware that I am ugly and stupid looking."

"Stop it," Steve reprimanded.

"Sorry honey," Tony said, pecking Steve on the lips.

"This is disgusting," Clint said. He grabbed the carton of orange juice and left. "This isn't over, Stark."

Steve gestured at Clint and mouthed _GO WITH HIM_ at Tony. Tony sighed. "_Fine_," he whined. "We'll go out to lunch."

"Just you and me?" Clint asked, not turning around.

"Just you and me. That Five Guys in New Jersey. No one goes to New Jersey."

"You went to New Jersey."

"Shut the fuck up and don't push it."

* * *

Steve had wrestled Tony into Bruce's sweatsuit—Tony Stark wouldn't be caught dead wearing a sweatsuit—a Yankees cap—despite Tony's instance that the Yankees suck; Steve agreed—and some of Clint's sunglasses—Tony's usual shades were too recognizable.

_"You're the one who doesn't want to be recognized. I promise you won't be recognized like this."_

_"I hate it when you're right. I look uglier than normal."_

_"Yes, you do. But you don't normally look ugly, so that's not saying much."_

_"Shut up," Tony shoved Steve's arm weakly. "I love you." He stretched up on his toes to kiss Steve. Steve bent his head down to capture Tony's lips._

_"Try to have fun. You used to love going out with Clint."_

_"Yeah, when we went to clubs and got wasted and acted like assholes."_

_"And now you're going to get lunch. It's called being a grown up," Steve insisted._

But now that Steve had shoved him out the door, he had no idea what to do with himself. He had spent the past four months fussing over Tony, and now Tony wasn't there. It's not that he didn't trust Clint, he just wanted to be the only one to take care of Tony. _This is good for him_, Steve reminded himself.

He went down to the gym as he always did when he couldn't shut his mind off, only to find Natasha beating the shit out of a punching bag. She was grunting and sweating and overall just looking… unhappy.

"Hey," Steve greeted. He was about to wrap his hands when he turned to her. "Wanna spar."

"Yes," she said immediately. "No." She went back to the punching bag.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to see you right now."

"Why? What did I do?"

"Goddamn it." She pulled a gun out of her boot and shot the punching back until she was out of bullets.

"Okay, what's going on?" Steve asked.

Natasha threw the gun and it clattered against the floor. "I'm so mad at him. And I'm mad at me for fucking caring about him. I don't care about people because people _leave_ but I care about him and now he's just…" She kicked the punching bag and sand started to fall out of it.

"I'm mad, too," Steve admitted. "I go to bed mad and I wake up mad. I try not to be mad at him, because I know it's not his fault, but it's hard because there's no one to blame."

"I know that, but like you said, there's no one else to blame."

"Do you really regret becoming his friend?" Steve asked.

"No," she said and punched the bag again. "And that's the worst part."

* * *

"No one is going to take your picture in a burger restaurant in New Jersey. You said it yourself. Take off the sunglasses," Clint insisted.

"No." Clint rolled his eyes. "Why did you drag me out?" Tony asked.

"Because I want you to be my best man. I asked Phil to marry me and he said yes."

"And you're taking pity on me because I'm dying. Ask Natasha, I'm sure she'd be happy to do it."

"And I know that, and I will if you say no, but it's not because you're dying, Tony. It's because you're a good friend. A great friend. As much as you hate it, you are. You try to be an asshole because you don't want any of us to know how much you care, but it's a defense mechanism and we _all_ do it. Every single one of us has tried to push the others away."

"What about Steve?"

"Phil's gonna ask him."

Tony smiled a little. "Of course he is."

"Will you do it, Tony? Please."

Tony didn't answer and he had to look away from Clint's hopeful face.

* * *

Friday rolled around and Natasha drove Tony to chemo. Steve had offered, but Natasha said she would like to do it. Given their conversation, Steve backed down immediately. He took up the majority of Tony's time. It was important that he share him.

"So how are you?" Natasha asked on the way to the hospital.

"Horrible," he mumbled. She gripped the steering wheel tighter. "But I'll feel even worse in four hours, so whatever."

* * *

It didn't take four hours to feel worse. "Where's Connor?" he asked the nurse. The chair was there, but the kid wasn't. The nurse didn't say anything, just stuck the IV into Tony's arm. "Where. Is. Connor," Tony demanded. "Are you fucking deaf? Are you retarded? Why aren't you answering my mother fucking question?" Tony started to thrash around in his seat. "Where's that goddamned piece of shit kid and why isn't he in that fucking chair?!"

The nurse left without a word. Tony reached into his pocket. He didn't care that he wasn't supposed to use his phone in the room. "Steve!" he shouted as soon as he heard his husband answer.

"What? What's wrong? What happened?" Steve panicked.

"Connor's not here," Tony choked. "He's not here… what if he's—"

"Okay, calm down sweetheart. I'm sure he's _fine_."

"_Steve_, this is a fucking cancer ward. He didn't fucking show up but his chair is here, ready for him. What the fuck else could it mean?" Tony voice cracked. "It's not _fair_, Steve. He's never gonna see two decades of life. Jesus _fuck_!" Tony shouted.

"I'm coming down there."

"You can't come in here."

"Doesn't matter. I'll be there when you get out."

"Thanks."

After Steve hung up, Tony stared at the wall and tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. He hadn't even really known Connor, but he would definitely call him a friend. And then a wave of realization crashed over him. This was what the rest of the team was going through.

Except they had known Tony for years. A group of six people with horrendous trust issues, trusted him. They all trusted each other. They were little and broken, but they were a fucking family and he was fucking _dying_ on them. He fumbled for his phone, a few tears spilling out of his eyes, desperate to call his friends and tell them how much he cared about them. He was going to tell Clint that he wanted to be his best man. He was going to tell Bruce how much it meant to have someone to work with. He wanted to thank Thor for the hugs, even though they crushed him and were often physically painful. He was about to hit the call button when he heard frantic footsteps and erratic breathing.

He looked up to see a disheveled Connor stumbling into the room.

"You piece of _shit_," Tony shouted. "I thought you were dead!"

"I'm ten minutes late and you assume I'm dead? What is that?" he flopped into his chair and hit the _Call Nurse_ button on the cart next to him. "But I have slightly horrible news."

"Slightly horrible?" Tony winced. "That sounds hella horrible."

"Did you just say hella?"

"Yes. What's the news?"

Connor threw a magazine at Tony. "I was late because I was trying to buy that off a teenage girl who wanted to read about Jennifer Aniston doing a thing," Connor said.

"Why would you oh _fuck—_"

"Yeah."

"But _how_. No one would go to a Five Guys in New Jersey! Thus the basis of it's appeal!" Tony said. He was looking at two full pages of him and Clint eating lunch. It was after Clint had finally convinced him to take off the shades. Just like with the first tabloid with the picture of him and Steve, he read aloud. "_We all knew it couldn't be long before notorious womanizer Tony Stark moved on from husband Steve Rogers-Stark._ What?"

"Read on," Connor sighed as the nurse stuck the IV in his arm.

"_What's more is he seems to be hooked to an oxygen tank. Our source says that Stark kept exclaiming about his imminent death to his new beau. If the ill-fitting sweatsuit is any indicator, it seems that our favorite superhero has given up on life. No wonder we haven't seen Iron Man flying around lately! P.S. Who knew Stark was a Yankees fan?_" Tony ripped the magazine in half. "What the _fuck_. The only time I leave the fucking house and this fucking shit happens fucking fuck I hate cell phones I hate cameras I hate the media I hate these fucking lies." He shoved his hand into his pocket to grab his phone.

"You can't use that in here—"

"Watch me," Tony snapped at the nurse. He dialed Pepper's number—the only one besides Steve's that he knew by heart—and listened to it ring twice before she answered. "Have you seen it?"

"Yes."

"Press conference."

"Tony, I don't know if that's—"

"Tonight at seven. Prime fucking time. I don't give a fuck what you have to do." He hung up the phone and shoved it back in his pocket. "And how have _you_ been?"

"Dandy."

"You piece of shit scared me half to death. I thought you were _dead_."

"I had a magazine to buy."

"How much did you pay for it?"

"She wouldn't sell it. I grabbed it and ran. No one's gonna chase the kid with an oxygen tank. I almost passed out after, like, ten yards."

"Good boy. Superheroes aren't the only one's that are super."

* * *

"I am not accepting questions, but that won't stop you from asking. I will, however, ignore you. So, time to clear a few things up. First off, as you can see, I am not in my best health. It's cancer and that's all you're getting. Secondly, the man that I was eating lunch with was not my new _beau_. I am absolutely, 100% dedicated to my husband. The man is my close friend Clint, and we were having lunch to discuss his upcoming wedding, for which I am his best man." Tony smiled. He hadn't told Clint that he had changed him mind yet. He just hoped he hadn't already asked Natasha. "Finally, I hate the Yankees. That is all." Tony grabbed the cart with his oxygen tank and pulled it after him as he left the podium.


	6. How Much I Love You

"Why are you doing this?" Tony complained as Bruce shoved dress socks at him. He had already forced Tony into a suit and tie.

"Just put on the socks," Bruce ordered as he filed through the closet to find shoes. All Tony had were sneakers in varying degrees of casual. He grabbed the nicest black pair and handed them to Tony. When Tony was finished pulling on the socks, he slipped into the shoes and laced them up.

"What's going on?" Tony whined.

"You'll find out in a minute," Bruce said, securing Tony's hat on his head. Tony fiddled with the ring around his neck. He had been losing weight and his wedding band was too big for his finger. He had laced a chain through it and wore it around his neck, instead. He was dreading the day the press saw his bare finger, but Steve insisted that, since the secret was out, he had to leave the tower. It had been two months since he came out about the cancer and he hadn't gotten any better. He hadn't gotten much worse though, so he was allowing himself a little bit of hope.

"Thanks Bruce," Tony said.

"Fighting to get you dressed is worth your happiness."

"You know I'm not talking about that. I want to thank you for everything. Thank you for trusting

me. Thank you for coming back. Thank you for living at the tower and being my friend, even though you were scared. I never had a lot of friends."

"Neither did I. C'mon, you have places to be."

Bruce led him out of Tony and Steve's penthouse and into the elevator. They went down to the communal floor, where the rest of the Avengers lived, and Bruce exited. Tony started to follow him, but Bruce told him to stay. The elevator door closed and Tony felt the elevator start to move, called to another floor. He watched as the numbers climbed until the elevator dinged and the door opened. He stepped out and looked around at the floor he hadn't stepped foot on in half a year.

The room was dark, only illuminated by two lines of candles, creating a pathway that led out to the Iron Man hangar. Tony followed the path until he saw Steve waiting for him. Steve led him to the table he had set up and sat down. There was steak and orchids and a bottle of champaign that Steve was currently popping the top off of.

"You know I can't drink," Tony said.

"It's sparkling apple juice. Of course I know you can't drink," Steve answered, pouring the drink into the champagne flutes in front of each of them.

"What's all this for?" Tony asked, cutting into the steak. He chewed it slowly, savoring the taste. He had been doing a lot of things slowly as of late, trying to soak up all he could in case it was the last time he got to experience something.

"Our six month anniversary," Steve answered before popping a piece of steak into his mouth.

"Jesus _fuck_, I forgot oh my God, Steve. I am _so_, so—"

"Stop, Tony. It's not a date you should have had to remember. I was just searching for something to celebrate and this came up."

"I still feel like an asshole."

"Don't."

As dinner went on, they talked about the times they had spent together over the past almost-three years. They laughed at the fights they had when they first met, they laughed about the fights they had since then. They talked about planning the wedding and the fact that Natasha "accidentally" set her dress on fire during the horribly boring rehearsal dinner. It just like their normal date nights, save for one thing: they never talked about the future, only reminisced about the past.

When they had both finished their steak, Steve cleared the plates onto the dinner cart beside them and brought out a piece of white cake.

"What's this?" Tony asked, eyeing it skeptically.

"Um," Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. "The obligatory piece of wedding cake."

"That we're supposed to eat on our one year anniversary?" Tony asked, his throat tightening as well. He knew where this was going.

"Yeah," Steve choked out. "Because, you know… _what if_… and so I figured it would be better to eat it on _an_ anniversary instead—"

"Instead of not at all."

"Yeah."

"Well then, let's dig in." Tony picked up his fork and started at the cake. When it touched his tongue everything started spinning. The taste brought him back and everything was good and they were on the honeymoon where they spent a week eating pasta and cake and swimming in the ocean and getting sand in their hair but not making love because Tony got sick and then they cut the trip short to get to a doctor and then he started sobbing. "I'm so sorry, Steve!" he shouted.

Steve didn't have to ask what brought it on; he knew. He was going through the same thing Tony was for the same reasons. Tony just beat him to the punch. Steve picked up the table and moved it to the side before stepping forward and embracing Tony. Tony stood up and placed his face in Steve's chest.

"I." Gasp. Sniffle. "Ruined." Gasp. Sniffle. "_Ev-v-verything_."

Steve knew that if he protested, Tony would just insist. He knew it was best just to hold his husband out there, above all of Manhattan. As Tony cried into his chest, he looked out over New York City. There were eight million lives going on around him, but there was only one he cared about. He held Tony tighter and buried his face in his neck. "I love you so much. Please don't be sad, my sunshine. Please don't be sad."

The rocked back and forth for awhile before Tony decided that he was calm enough to finish the cake. Steve moved the table back between them. Tony bit into it cautiously, Steve eyeing him closely, but he chewed and swallowed without bursting into tears, so both of them considered it a win.

"Steve?"

Steve had been looking at his plate, running his fork across it, moving the crumbs around. His head bolted up straight at Tony's voice. "Yeah?"

"I need you to do something for me."

"Anything, baby. what do you need?"

"I need you to make love to me."

"Tony, I—"

"_Please_," Tony all but begged. "Please, Steve," he whispered. "Not for the act of sex, but just… because I want to do it with _you_. At least one more time."

"Okay," Steve said, clearing the cake plate and silverware onto the dinner cart. "I'll just bring everything down and meet you in the room in ten minutes?"

"Okay. I love you." Tony leaned up on his toes to kiss Steve.

* * *

Steve couldn't stop his hands from shaking as he ran them over Tony's chest. His breathing hitched, but not in the way that it should have. He was choking on tears, not lust. All muscle tone was gone. Tony's skin was pale. He could count each of his husband's ribs. Tony's body reminded him of his own, back before the serum. The scar tissue around the arc reactor seemed translucent. Steve ran his finger over it. Tony shivered beneath him even though he couldn't feel was Steve was doing. The nerves in the area were long dead. It was the _idea_.

Instead of focusing on Tony's body, Steve moved his hands and eyes to Tony's face. He took his head in both of his hands and lifted Tony into a kiss. Steve was mindful not to put any of his weigh onto Tony. They kissed for a while before Tony whined and decided it was time to move on. He handed Steve lube and a condom.

Tony kept his eyes closed and laid still while Steve prepared him. He could tell that Steve was just going through the movements. He heard Steve unwrap the condom and roll it on. "You ready?" Steve whispered in his ear. Tony just nodded and let Steve enter him. He wanted so badly for it to feel good. He wished to enjoy sex with his husband. He could want and wish all he pleased, but the fact of the matter was that it would probably never be like that again. "Am I hurting you, honey?" Steve asked.

"No. Just be gentle and try not to break me," Tony smirked, only half joking.

It had only been six months. Six months since Steve found out that there was something wrong. Six months to the goddamned day. Six months since Tony reassured him _You're not going to break me, Steve. I'm a big boy. _

He looked at his husbands face to see that silent tears were running down his face. "You'll tell me if I'm hurting you, right?" he asked.

"It's okay," Tony whispered. "It's a good kind of hurt." Steve felt his resolve crumble and he started to cry as he continued to make love to Tony. He buried his face in Tony's neck, trying to soak up the genius's scent, but the distinct mix of overpriced shampoo and motor oil that had made up Tony was gone.

"Oh, Tony. I'm so sorry this happened to you," he whispered into Tony's ear.

"It's okay, baby. Nothing you could do."

* * *

_Steve couldn't stop his hands from shaking as he ran them over Tony's chest. His breathing hitched at the sight in front of him. Of course he had seen Tony shirtless before—they had been dating over a month and a half—but it was somehow different now. Obviously he didn't have as much muscle-tone as Steve, but he wasn't weak either. He loved how warm the tanned skin felt against his hands._

_ Tony reached up behind him and wrapped his arms happily around the soldier's neck, pulling him down into a kiss. Steve toppled forward and just barely caught himself before squishing Tony beneath him._

_ "I like feeling you on top of me," Tony murmured into the kiss, and Steve lets his arms go a bit lax, adding more pressure to Tony. He was still supporting himself, but not as much. "Mm, I like this."_

_ "Good," Steve said, his voice a bit shaky._

_ Tony pulled away. "Are you nervous, baby?"_

_ "Yes," Steve admitted. Tony wriggled out from under Steve and Steve rolled onto his back next to Tony. "Sorry."_

_ Tony chuckled. "It's okay, Steve." He moved a stray piece of Steve's hair off of Steve's face. "It's okay to be nervous your first time. Lord knows I was."_

_ "Really?" Steve asked, not believing it for a second._

_ "Yeah, but that's a story for another time. Tonight it's about you and me, okay? Can you tell me what you're nervous about?"_

_ Steve ran his hands over his face. "I don't even know. I just… what if it's not good? I mean…" Steve grunted. "This is so embarrassing."_

_ Tony kissed him quickly. "We have to be able to talk about it, Steve."_

_ "What if I don't do it right? What if I hurt you? I mean… sometimes I forget how strong I am and I don't want to—"_

_ "Stop right there." Tony put a finger on his Steve's lips. "You aren't going to hurt me, it's going to be adequate—"_

_ "I don't want it to be adequate!" Steve shouted._

_ "Well, I'm not going to lie, first times usually are adequate. In the grand scheme of sex, that is. You probably won't know the difference. But Steve," Tony grabbed Steve's face and turned his head to face him, "this is about you and me more than it is about sex, okay? There is _nothing_ to worry about." Steve was silent for a long while. "Do you still want to do this tonight?" Tony asked._

_ "Yes."_

_ "Then I'll help you through it, okay."_

_ "This is so embarrassing," Steve muttered again, getting up on his knees. "Okay, what do I do first?"_

_ "Take off my pants."_

_ Steve eyes went wide and he swallowed nervously. Rationally he knew that pants were going to come off, but it was still baffling that Tony could be so calm. "How come you're not freaking out?" Steve asked as he worked Tony's belt._

_ "I've done this before. It's _okay_, baby. There is no reason to freak out."_

_ Once Tony's pants were off, Steve hesitantly asked, "What's next?"_

_ "Underwear, too, Steve."_

_ "Oh, right." Once that was done. "Now what?"_

_ "I can take your pants off _or_ you could do it yourself. It's up to you."_

_ "I thought this was supposed to be romantic," Steve grumbled._

_ "I'm doing it with you, therefore it is romantic." Tony sat up and placed a kiss in the center of Steve's chest. "Now do you want to do it or do you want me to?"_

_ "Um… you can do it if you want."_

_ "Stand up," Tony ordered. Once Steve was standing in front of him as he sat on the bed, Tony unlatched his belt and slid Steve's pants and underwear down his legs. He cleared his throat. "Oh wow."_

_ "What? Is something wrong?" Steve asked, panicked. He looked down at Tony._

_ "No, no. Just… wow." Tony licked his lips, fighting his every instinct to lean forward and take Steve in his mouth. But he couldn't do that to Steve. Not without asking first. "Steve… can I put it in my mouth?"_

_ Steve's eyes widened and he looked back down at Tony. "You want to do _what_?!"_

_ Tony looked away from it and up to Steve's face. "Please? It'll feel good."_

_ "Um… ok—AY." Tony smiled around Steve's dick. He laughed as Steve's knees buckled and he stepped back. "What the hell?"_

_ "I asked!" Tony shouted._

_ "No I mean what the hell… how did… I'm so confused."_

_ "It's called a blow job, Steve. There's nothing to be confused about. Now do you want me to do it again, and do it _right_, or do you want to move on to the main event?" Tony watched as Steve swallowed._

_ "I want to make you feel good."_

_ "Okay, sounds great. There's plenty of time for fellatio in the future." Steve looked confused. "Never mind." Tony scooted back so that he was leaning against the wall of pillows he had on his bed._

_ "So… this," Steve said, holding up the bottle of lube._

_ "Yes. Okay, put that on your fingers. You're going to use it to stretch me. Or, if you want, I could do it myself…" Tony offered immediately. "I understand if you don't want to do it, especially the first time ar—you don't have to use the whole bottle," Tony smirked as he watched Steve squirt the gel onto his fingers._

_ "I don't want to hurt you," he said. "One at a time?"_

_ "Yeah." Steve put his first finger in and moved it as Tony instructed. "Is this weird for you?" Tony asked._

_ "Surprisingly, no."_

_ "You can add a second any time you like." Steve did. The rest of the evening went on the same. Tony coached Steve, who did what he was told. He was still hesitant and constantly afraid of hurting Tony, but Tony assured him that it was okay._

_ When Tony whispered _Come for me_ into Steve's ears, all control Steve had over his arms to keep him from crushing Tony was gone. His elbows buckled and he collapsed onto Tony, breathing heavily. He laid their for awhile, riding the rise and fall of Tony's chest as he breathed. When he finally regained control over his motor skills, he kissed Tony behind his ear, soaking in that distinct scent of overpriced shampoo and motor oil before whispering, "Thank you."_

* * *

Steve was normally grateful for what the serum had given him, but sometimes the ability to hear better than the others was a curse. Tony had fallen asleep soon after the sex, but Steve couldn't sleep. He just kept tossing and turning, thinking of how much had changed since the beginning. It led him to roam the halls which led him to overhear the conversation his friends were having in the next room.

"Anthony is not getting well," Thor said.

"Thor…" Bruce said.

"We're all thinking it," Natasha said. Steve heard her take a sip of something. He hoped it was tea but had a feeling it was something stronger. "What are we going to do?"

"What _can_ we do, Tasha?" Clint asked.

"I don't know," she admitted. She took another long sip of whatever it was she was drinking.

Steve heard rustling and the sound of something being handed and then Bruce was drinking. "That is… _strong_," he noted.

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. His friends were getting drunk and talking about his husband's pending death. It had to be bad if Bruce was drinking. They were all quiet for awhile, and Steve pictured them all staring off, unable to speak to each other, passing the bottle around, trying to forget.

"I don't know how Steve's doing it," Coulson said. Steve pictured Coulson leaning against Clint's chest as Clint draped his arms over his shoulders, both lazily spread over the couch. Just the way he and Tony used to sit together. The team had no shortage of demons, and these sessions weren't unheard of.

It was the first time neither Steve nor Tony had been there.

"We have to keep it together. If he can do it, then we can, too," Clint said.

Steve pushed off of the wall he had been leaning against and went back to his room, crawling in beside the sleeping Tony. He took Tony in his arms—light, frail, weak—and pulled him to his chest. Steve cried and Tony slept and Steve tried to remain positive but his optimism was rapidly dissolving.

* * *

Tony was asleep on the couch when Steve came into the room. Tony was smiling in his sleep and Steve couldn't help returning the smile, even if Tony couldn't see it. He sat down at Tony's feet and brought out his sketchbook. Since his revelation the other night, he had spent every free moment drawing Tony everywhere he could. A part of him knew that soon, he probably wouldn't be able to draw him anymore.

It was harder to draw him now. It felt unnatural to create his face without the beard; to shape his head without the gelled back frame of black. He did his best, but wasn't satisfied. It looked like the Tony in front of him, but it didn't look at all like _Tony_.

He felt something poke into his cheek. He turned to Tony. "How long have you been there?" Tony asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Long enough."

Tony smiled a little bit. He poked Steve with his toe again. "Remember, Steve?" he asked, repeatedly shoving his toe into Steve's cheek.

"Of course," Steve whispered, looking down. "I remember everything I did with you." Tony lowered his foot into Steve's lap.

"Everything, huh?" Tony asked, sitting up. It was a lot harder for him to get into Steve's lap than it had been two years ago—than it had been six goddamn months ago—but he still did it. "So you remember how I kicked your face. And then I…" Tony put his finger under Steve's chin. "…tilted your head back like this." Tony licked his lips.

"And you asked me if you could try something."

"And you said yes."

"I did."

"So I leaned in like this," Tony said, slowly leaning toward Steve, but stopping just before he met his lips. "And stopped and said that, if we were going to do it, there was no going back. That nothing could be the same."

"You said, and I almost want to laugh about it now, that it could ruin everything."

"But then you told me to go ahead, so I did this," Tony pressed his lips to Steve's. "What else do you remember?" Tony asked.

"I remember our first Valentine's Day. I remember the first time I called you How—"

"Which was also the last time you called me that."

"Yes, of course. I remember going to each of the islands. I remember the first time I woke up with you. I remember the first time I told you I loved you. I remember the first time you told me you loved me—"

"Which were totally separate occurrences. Sorry."

"I don't even think about it. You did it when you were ready. And I remember when we told the rest of the team. I remember tickling you until started screaming bloody murder and Clint came in with his bow because he though you were being attacked. I remember the time that—"

"My turn," Tony interrupted. "I remember the time when I made you read _Twilight_, telling you it was good. I remember you believing me."

"I remember throwing the book at your head when I was done…"

"Oh, hush. It was a learning experience. I remember the time you dragged me to the Taylor Swift concert."

"And I remember you singing along to all of the songs…"

Tony slapped Steve's arm. "Don't say that out loud. Someone could hear you."

"Sorry."

"I remember the time I had the flu and sneezed in your face. I remember the time I got incredibly drunk and tried to pee on you—"

"Which is one of the memories that we should try to forget."

"I don't want to. I don't want to forget a single moment I spent with you." Tony began to pepper Steve's face with soft kisses. Steve held onto Tony's hips, as if anchoring him was the only way to ensure that Tony wouldn't leave him right then and there.

"Tony," Steve said once Tony pulled away.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry that it has to end like this."

"Finally figured it out?" Tony said, a sad smile painted on his face. "I'm really sorry, Steve. You deserve better than this."

"None of that," Steve said, pressing his lips to Tony's.

"I'm not gonna stop fighting, Steve. I'm going to do my best so that I can stay with you. God," Tony pushed his fingers through Steve's hair, ran his thumbs over his cheeks, cupped his face in his hands. "I want more than anything to stay with you."

It was strange; instead of crying, they smiled at each other. Sad, loving smiles. "I want you to stay with me, too. You're the reason I woke up. I'm sure of it now. I was frozen for seventy years just so I could meet you."

"Bullshit," Tony full on smiled. "But I like the thought."

"Yeah, it is bullshit, but I try to believe it. I may not have been brought here for you, but the only reason I'm _still_ here is you." Steve used his thumb to wipe a stray tear from Tony's cheek. "You gave me something to live for, and I will be grateful of that until the day I die."

"Please don't do anything stupid when I'm gone, Steve. No trying to kill yourself for love. No plunging any planes into any oceans. No jumping off any skyscrapers, because… because I'm not going to be there to catch you. Can you do that for me, Steve? Can you keep living for me?"

"Of course."

"Can we lie down? There's some important things I want to talk about and I want to be comfortable, because it's an uncomfortable topic."

"Yeah, sure." Steve braced Tony before standing up. He shifted so he could place Tony on the couch before spooning into him. "What is it."

Tony was facing the back of the couch and he talked to the white plush. "I don't want to be put in the family plot. I, uh… I don't want to lay next to my father for the rest of forever."

"Okay," Steve whispered into his ear.

"I need you, to, um… I don't want to be buried at all."

"Okay," Steve kissed the back of Tony's bald head.

"And, uh… that's it, I think. Everything else is in the will."

"You have a will?" Steve asked. He didn't know Tony and gone _that_ far. When could he have? They were together always.

"Steve, I've had a will since I was eighteen years old. It's obviously changed since then, but it's always been there. Gotta leave all of this to someone."

"And who's that?"

"You don't get to know until I die."

"If you die."

Tony didn't say anything to that. He still wanted to believe in _if_. It was just too hard. "Sing to me."

Steve started to sing the first song that popped into his head. "_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are gray. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away_."

"You know… that's actually a really sad song. You're saying that someone is your _only_ sunshine. That nothing else brings you light. You don't feel that way about me, do you, Steve?"

"Of course I do. I love you."

"Try to find some other sunshine, baby. I don't want you to be left in the dark when I'm gone."

* * *

_Steve and Tony were cuddled up on the couch watching _Juno_. It was one of Tony's favorites (he was a softie when it came to movies) and he wanted to share it with Steve. Tony had seen the movie a million and one times before, but he was still utterly enthralled with the story. The few times he had looked away from the screen to Steve, he could tell that Steve was, too._

_ "_I never realized how much I liked being home until I've been some place really different for awhile_." They heard Juno narrate. She walked into the kitchen and made straight faced jokes with her father while looking into the fridge._

_"_I'm just, like… losing my faith in humanity,_" she said as she slumped into a chair. _

_ "_Uh… can you narrow that down for me?_" her father asked._

_ "_I just wonder if, like, two people can stay together for good._"_

_ "_Like couples?_"_

_ "_Yeah… like people in love._" Then, after a bit more banter. "_I just wanna know if it's possible for two people to stay happy together forever._" Tony nuzzled his head further into Steve's chest as Steve ran his hand up and down Tony's arm_.

_ And then Juno's father was giving her one of the most poignant piece of advice in the film. "_I think the best thing you can do is find someone who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood. Ugly, pretty… handsome, what have you. The right person is still gonna think the sun shines out your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with._" Until that moment, Tony had always thought it to be a bunch of nonsense, squished into the movie. But with the way Steve was rubbing his arm, and the way he could hear his boyfriend's soft heartbeat, and the way he _felt_ about Steve._

_ He zoned out for the minute and a half it took for Bleeker and Juno to meet up on the track. "_I think I'm in love with you,_" she said._

_ "_Like as friends?_"_

_ "_No. I mean for real. 'Cause you're like… the coolest person I've ever met. And you don't even have to try, you know?_"_

_ "_I try really hard actually._"_

_ "_You're like naturally smart. And you're not like everyone else. You don't stare at my stomach like everyone else; you look at my face. And every time I see you… the baby starts kicking super hard._" She took Bleeker's hand and put it on her stomach._ _"_I think it's because my heart starts pounding every time I see you._"_

_ "_Mine, too._"_

_ "_That's all I could ask 're golden, man._"_

_ "_Can we make out now?_"_

_ "_Yeah…_"_

_ "Steve, I'm in love with you," Tony blurted before thinking about it._

_ "Wait, what? JARVIS, pause the movie."_

_ "I said I'm in love with you. And… I didn't realize it until right now. Well, I mean, I don't think I did…"_

_ "I love you, too."_

_ "Really?"_

_ "How many times to I have to tell you that?" Steve asked, running a hand through Tony's hair._

_ "Evidently a lot because I still can't believe someone like you would love someone like me." Tony sat up and started to kiss Steve. Before it was able to get heated, Steve pulled back._

_ "I wanna see how it ends."_

_ "Okay."_

_ Both Steve and Tony cried._

_ "_I can't see what anyone can see in anyone else but you._"_

* * *

"_Captain_." Steve woke up in a dark room at the sound of JARVIS's voice. The darkness was wrong, for some reason, but in his half-awake haze he couldn't pinpoint _what_ about it was wrong. He yawned, stretched, and rolled over to put his arm around Tony. After a few seconds, Steve realized what was wrong. His hand was bumping against the arc reactor.

It was dark in the room.

The arc reactor wasn't working.

"LIGHTS!" he shouted. Immediately the room was bright. He rolled Tony over to see what he already knew; Tony wasn't breathing. "Fuck!" he shouted. He wasn't sure how long ago Tony had stopped breathing, so he started performing CPR. "You selfish piece of shit, you are _not_ allowed to die on me. C'mon you piece of shit. TONY WAKE UP!" he screamed as he continued to try and restart his husband's heart.

Apparently JARVIS sent out a call to the hospital before he had woken Steve up, because it wasn't long before there was a team of medics telling Steve that there was an ambulance waiting outside. The doctors had to physically pull Steve off of Tony while exchanging saddened glances. Steve was screaming. The rest of the Avengers had woken up, evidently, because Thor took Steve from the struggling medics and held him down while the doctor's checked for a pulse.

"You fucking bastard you can't fucking die on me! You piece of shit!" Steve shouted. He was spitting. He could feel the blood rushing in his face. He could feel the hot tears running down his cheeks. He felt his voice growing hoarse. He felt Thor straining to keep him from attacking the doctors. "It's not fair you didn't let me say goodbye to you I just can't handle this you fucking piece of shit! You selfish bastard! _HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME_?!" He knew he was being irrational. He knew that Tony couldn't hear him.

He knew that Tony was dead. 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry not sorry.**

**There's one more after this.**


	7. Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away

It was after three in the morning and Steve was sitting in the kitchen. He couldn't cry. He hadn't been able to cry since they had taken Tony away. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't be awake. The only thing he could do was sit there and stare at nothing, hoping for some sort of relief from it all. He wished he could escape, if even for a few minutes.

"Can't sleep?" he asked as he heard Natasha approach. She didn't say anything, just pulled a chair up next to him. Steve couldn't help but be reminded of a time so long ago when Peggy sat by his side after the death of another loved one.

"I'm worried about you," she said. Steve refused to look at her.

"No need to be. I'll be fine."

"Steve. You don't have to be fine. You're allowed to grieve."

"Yeah, okay. That means a whole lot coming from _you_," Steve spat. He immediately wished he could take it back.

"You think I'm some sort of emotionless robot, but…"

"But what?" Steve asked.

"I cared about Stark. We talked about this before, but you were probably too absorbed in yourself to remember."

"I remember," Steve whispered. He _had_ been absorbed in himself. He had taken all of Tony's time for himself. Tony never complained, and neither did their friends, but only now did Steve realize that he had been selfish.

"We never said anything because we knew how hard it was on you, but you have to understand now that there are a whole group of people here who are mourning him, too. You're not alone. And I mean that both as a support and a reminder. You weren't the only one that cared."

Steve stood up after that. He couldn't listen to this. He thought about going back to the room, but stopped. He couldn't be there. Couldn't be in the place where he had last been with Tony. He had already spent three days laying in the bed, curled in the blankets, trying to feel some connection to his husband.

It hadn't worked.

Steve decided it was time to venture into the inevitable. If he wanted to feel a connection to Tony, there was one place he could go to. He took the elevator down to the workshop and looked around. Dum-E rolled over to him and beeped sadly. Steve pet Dum-E's claw. Somehow, the bumbling robot Tony loved but pretended he didn't, knew.

"It's okay, boy," he said. "It's going to be okay."

"_Captain_."

"JARVIS?"

"_Sir told me to show you something when you finally returned to the workshop. Might I suggest you sit in the Hot Rod?_"

"Uh… okay?" Steve walked over to Tony's beloved car. The car he had somehow had the mind to move to New York before his house fell into the ocean. Steve opened the door and slid in. He remembered making love to Tony in this car. He remembered holding him after. He remembered whispering _I love you_ for the first time.

It hurt.

"What's this all about?" Steve asked. JARVIS didn't respond.

"_Hi, Steve_," a voice said. Steve felt like the air had been knocked out of him. In front of him on a giant screen was Tony. He was healthy. He had all of this hair and his beard. He was smiling and there was color in his face, life in his eyes. "_I really hope you never have to see this, but if you do, it means I'm dead, and I'm so, _so_ sorry. _

"_I was diagnosed yesterday. I'm really scared, Steve, but I want you to know that no matter what happens, I love you until the end of time._"

"I love you, too," Steve whispered. Then the screen changed. Tony was how he looked in the end. Steve checked the date on the bottom of the screen. It had been a week and a half ago. He swallowed, mentally preparing himself for what Tony was about to say.

"_Me again. I realized that, in the first video, there are a lot of things that I needed to say but didn't get a chance to. I don't know if there's an afterlife, but if there is, I'll be waiting there for you. But I hope I don't see you any time soon. You have to _promise_ that you will keep living for me. You can't be doing something stupid and getting yourself killed because you're sad or angry or whatever. And I don't know if there's such a thing as ghosts or whatever, but if there is, I'll be watching over you. You better live a happy life or I'll haunt the shit out of you._

"_Tell everyone that they're crazy and annoying and that I am so sorry for leaving them. Let Natasha know that I'm dead and I'm still terrified of her. Tell Bruce, that no matter how well he thinks he's in control, he shouldn't download Flappy Bird again. It ended badly the past seven times. Tell Thor I'm gonna miss his hugs. Tell Pepper that she has given me everything and that I was always grateful, even if I didn't show it. Tell Rhodey that I'm sorry I didn't get to see him much in the end. Tell Coulson and Clint that I am so happy for them. I hope that they have the happiest of marriages. If they love each other half as much as you and I do… they're going to live a happy life. If you look in the top drawer of my desk, you'll find a toast I wrote for them. If you could maybe read it at their wedding… that would mean the world to me._

"_I need to thank you. I need to thank you for every second of the past two and a half years. Thank you for giving me a reason to get sober. Thank you for giving me a reason to wake up every morning. Thank you for putting up with me, even though I was a stubborn ass 99% of the time. Thank you for understanding my limits. Thank you for loving me Steve. And I know you do. I know that you love me and that it isn't just words and I never thought that those words were anything but words. So thanks for proving me wrong._

"_Thanks for the last six months, Steve. Thank for never complaining when I puked on you, or when I made you watch stupid movies because they calm me down. Thank you for being brave, even though I know how scared you were._

"_I don't regret a single moment we've been together, Steve. I am thankful for every fight, every slammed door, every horrible thing said. I'm thankful for every kiss, every time we made love, every time we just held each other without speaking. I'm glad that I got to spend these past years laughing with you and playing with you and…"_ Tony's eyes were tearing up and he licked his lips to compose himself. He ran his hand over his face."_Steve, Jesus fuck, I love you so much. Thank you for giving me the chance to marry my best friend._

"_I'm sorry, Steve. I love you so much. Forever._"

Steve wiped the tears out of his eyes. "I love you, Tony." Tony's face softened on the screen as if he somehow knew that Steve was going to say that. It wasn't long after that the screen went blank. Steve kept staring at where Tony had been. "Goodbye," he whispered.

* * *

The service was horrible. Steve hated every second of it. He hated that he was going to have to give a speech. He hated how it was hot and stuffy. He hated it because he knew how much Tony would have hated it. Steve hadn't gotten to have to much say in the affair—SHIELD took control—and Steve wished he had fought harder.

Through the whole thing, Steve planned it the right way in his head. Just the important people would have come. The Avengers, Rhodey, Pepper, Happy, Coulson. Fury would probably show up. But instead here was a sea of people Tony hadn't even known crying over what a great man he was.

As soon as he was done reading his husband's eulogy, he left the room. He couldn't take the bullshit anymore. He stood outside for a bit, breathing in the fresh air, until the grief washed over him and he couldn't bare to stand anymore. Somehow this made it real. This was it. This was the end.

He wasn't sure how long he sat on the curb, but suddenly there was someone sitting beside him.

"Hi," said the somewhat familiar voice. Steve lifted his head from his hands to see Connor.

"What are you doing here? You knew him for fifteen minutes," Steve spat. He turned back away from the kid and put his face in his hands again. Connor didn't say anything. He didn't get up to leave. He didn't fill the silence with _I'm sorry_ or _It'll be okay_. Sorry doesn't fix anything and nothing is ever _okay_. A death is never _okay_. You learn to live around a death, but it never becomes _okay_.

Instead, the kid just wrapped his arm around Steve. At first, Steve flinched, but when he realized that Connor was just being a friend, he sunk into him. He put his face on his shoulder. This person was a stranger to Steve, but he had meant a lot to Tony, and that seemed like enough in that moment.

* * *

"So now to start the toasts," Steve began, "I have a very special message. As you know, we're a very little, very broken family. But, we _are_ a family. And one very important part of our family can't be here tonight. Tony wished like hell that he could be—he told me himself—but some part of him knew that he might not be able to. He wrote down his best man speech, so without further ado…" Steve reached into his pocket to grab the notecards. He had memorized Tony's speech to the letter, but he wanted to have the backup. He wanted people to know that this was word for word what Tony meant.

The people all around the reception tittered and Steve cleared his throat. "_Hello friends, sorry I couldn't be there. I don't know if I believe in an afterlife or not, but if there is one, know that I am here to spend this night with you. Clint Barton and Agent Coulson are two of the greatest people I've met. They were together for years before they told us, which is proof that love doesn't expire. It doesn't need to be broadcasted. Love is about two people who care about each other, not more than themselves, but in spite of themselves. Love is hard and it's painful and there will be times—there probably already have been times—when you want to kick the other out, or one of you sleeps on the couch, or you scream and threaten to leave. That's what love is. Love isn't a string of perfect moments, but it does string perfect moments together. Remember that and you'll live a wonderful life together. So here's to Phil and Clint, and all of the little moments._"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**First off, I'd like to thank the every beautiful Martyna. She is seriously amazing and she has been with me every step of the way through this story. I pitched the idea to her, I asked for advice. She's seriously amazing and she kept me going when it got hard to write it.**

**I guess I shouldn't have said first off because there's no second thing I wanted to say other than I hope y'all enjoyed reading this because I enjoyed writing it. **


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